My first shot at a Criminal Minds fanfic!
I am in absolute love with Criminal Minds, since my friend got me interested.
And, obviously, I fell head over heels for Spencer Reid.
So the creative juices started flowing, and somehow I got here!
Hope everything works out!
August 2005~~
Red walls of velvet surrounded a dozen girls bedazzled in silver, pink and gold jewels. All each had their own well-sized mirrors with 8 orbs of lights surrounding them, being the only source of light throughout the entire room besides a small dark shaded lamp in the far corner that was no bigger than a medium sized vase. All of the girls had their hair curled and their lips a beautiful sheen of dark pink; teeth bleached, eyes lined with dark make-up that didn't over-do their looks. Blondes, red heads, auburns, midnights, and brunettes each pushed one another out of the way to get to their mirrors.
Every mirror had a name, a small plank of wood decorated with their name and stickers and glitter, each showing every individuals artistic talent. When a new girl arrived, she was handed a key to the run down building, a key to the large walk-in closet for their costumes, and a plank of wood to take home and decorate. It would go above their mirror and it would be like a label—no one but the girl named is to use the mirror.
Smoke was filling the room slowly, some girls having lit up the moment they were off stage. Others sat down and drank water, dabbing their foreheads of sweat and playing with the black tassels that hung from the walls and silk curtains in front of the one window. Some swatted the smoke out of their faces and began applying more make-up, the routine touch-up before they knew they had to go back out.
The final performer finally entered the room and shut the door behind her, letting out a deep breath as she leaned against the mahogany door covered in sharpie autographs, with dates numbering each name. Final goodbyes of former dancers. The girls had the most touched up of all curls. Most of the girls had strictly one color of hair—natural or dyed to perfection—but this girl had streaks upon streaks of browns and blonde in her natural mouse brown hair. All the other showgirls looked at her when she shut the door and she smiled at them with both her deep blue eyes and her pearly whites.
"Honey, really, you don't need to rush yourself to the dressing room. Take your bows, the crowd adores you." A dark skinned woman told her, walking over to her and patting her hand.
"I know Vi, I know. You all just disappear so fast that I can't keep up." The girl raved, allowing her friend to lead her to her mirror at the very end. She waved her hand in front of her face, pushing smoke out of the way.
She coughed and Vi sat her down in her seat, "God—really ladies? Smoking right before we go back on?"
"It relieves stress." A voluptuous redhead cooed as smoke dripped from her lips. The girl cringed and allowed Vi to start preparing more make-up for her. She began touching up her hair, playing with curls and replacing them to frame her face more properly.
"Vi can you unzip me?" she muttered quickly, looking up at the cast iron grandfather clock that stood beside her. She stood up and lifted her arms up so it would be easier for her costume to unzip.
The woman nodded and unzipped it, "Margaret, fetch Aurora's emerald flapper—ladies it's time to get movin'! Get your buddy and get a changin'!" Vi called out to them, peeling back the sparkling fabric from Aurora's back.
Noise level raised a notch as they all began bustling around, and a petite platinum blonde unlocked the closet across the room, unleashing every showgirl inside to grab their costume. She came back with a long emerald green sparkling flapper. Margaret handed Vi the dress and she helped Aurora step into it.
All the dancers were finished getting dressed and were just now finishing their make-up when some of the girls began talking about how important the number was. One girl was checking the paper, her manicured nail glued to the slip, running up and down the soft print. She giggled and turned back to the dark red haired girl, who had just lit up another smoke.
"Tonight is the night! I'm so excited!" she squealed, spinning around in her two-piece emerald flapper set. A brunette woman with the characteristics of a Samoan grabbed her and began fixing her eyeliner, making it darker, thicker. The red haired woman laughed.
"Don't get too excited now, or you'll smell like a mess when you go out there." She laughed gruffly, standing up and spraying the girl with a bottle of flowery perfume. The girl coughed and threatened to sneeze until the Samoan girl stuck her finger under her nose.
Vi sighed and walked over to the red haired woman and pulled the cigarette out of her mouth, "Speak for yourself Claire." Forcefully, she smashed the cigarette butt into a dirty, stained crystal ashtray. Claire sneered at her and went to fix her make-up in her own mirror at the front of the room.
Aurora watched all the girls talking giddily about tonight, and the next performance and how thrilling it was. Her brows furrowed as Margaret started putting in her earrings, pushing Aurora's curls out of the way and then placing them back before in utter faultlessness. She reached onto the table and grabbed the brush for the eyeliner and sat down next to the confused starlet.
"What's so special about tonight?" she asked the petite girl beside her. She giggled and looked at Aurora via the mirror.
"Our VIP guests are a group o' cops. So—look up—you better dance your heart out little Sleepin' Beauty." Margaret said, her voice high-pitched, like that of a little girl. Her southern accent made everyone smirk a little when she spoke, her pronunciation of words sometimes unorthodox and off putting, but Aurora found her good to talk to. She looked up and the girl fixed the thin line of liner on her bottom lid.
When Margaret mentioned the cops, Aurora's eyes flew up to the corner of her mirror where a FBI badge hung loosely, dangling and shining in the light for all to see. The southern gal patted her shoulder.
"This is gonna be special fer you, ain' it? Dancin' for men your brother worked for! How exhiliratin'!" she grinned, also looking up at the badge.
"Her brother worked for the FBI, stupid, not the local PD." Claire snorted. Margaret huffed and pouted her big pink lips.
"Well whatever he worked for, it's impor'ant to her. So we will leave it at that." She hissed, standing up with her hand on her small waist. She scurried over to a table covered in head pieces and grabbed a silver band with a pearl white feather to place over Aurora's head.
The thing about the badge though, only Aurora knew about of course, was that it was, in some instances, fake. And not in the 'I-bought-this-at-a-dress-shop-sort-of-way'; it was real as the sun was bright. The badge just never belonged to her brother. Her brother was dead, that was true, being shot by a man who thought Aurora's father had killed his daughter, but her brother was never a cop. Aurora was though—and still is.
Aurora Underwood, informally known as Rory, worked for FBI in Quantico D.C., across town from their Burlesque Hall. She was sent there on the job to moonlight as a dancer to figure out whether drug trafficking, and maybe even human trafficking were involved in the business. Reports of lovely European women coming here for jobs that were good enough to be hired, and good enough to be sold, were being taken away after auditions and shipped off to the black market. So far, little evidence was apparent for her to find anything about that, but the drug trafficking was coming along nicely, having taken over 700 pictures of one of the owners paying a dealer and even setting up a line of cocaine for himself.
She was hoping that, soon, her job would be done. Her friend Jason had suggested her for the job and she knew that the next time she saw him on the job she would kill him. He worked for a completely different sector of the FBI, but his connections seemed too much for hers.
After getting to know Violet and Margaret though, she was determined to finish the job and finish it completely, seeing it through to the end. Starting in May of 2005, and the club not starting it's fresh dancing season until late July of 2005, she had a lot of time during rehearsals to get to know them all.
And a boost for her ego was that she didn't have to have help to get accepted. No extra agent on the inside. She auditioned and got in based on her own talent, from years and years of dance lessons from her childhood in California. Before her father was accused of multiple murders, which maybe one day she'd talk more about. It made her interested in the FBI and working to stop people like her father, whether she believed he was a murderer or not.
But the police were at the Burlesque Hall? To her it was no big deal. No cops knew her, so she couldn't get nervous, and to her, cops weren't very exciting to begin with. In fact, she thought they were, for the most part, pigs.
Margaret gingerly placed the ring upon her head and played with the feather until it was in the right place. She squealed once it was and squeezed Aurora's shoulders.
"Oh ya' look beautiful! Those men are goin' to just love ya'!"
"Okay ladies! It's show time!" Vi called before pulling open the door. A hush fell over all of them and Margaret helped Aurora stand up and pull her silver shoes on. They rushed after the other girls and Margaret did her best to keep up with the leading lady, fixing her hair.
"Now remember, you come in from upstage left jus' after the lights go out fer the third time, and you're singin' Somethin's Got A Hold On Me, 'kay?" she reminded her. Aurora just nodded and allowed her eyes to dart around the dark backstage.
"Got it Mags, now get out there." She mumbled, pushing Margaret forward as she stuck the feather into her own band in her hair. The girl blew her a kiss and rushed out onto her place on stage. Aurora thought it was a miracle that all the girls could find their places in the dark. Few lights were on around them and they all came from candles up high on the velvet walls and of the church high ceilings, and also came from the candles on each individual small table.
The spotlights flash on once, and two beats were played over the speakers, gathering a few cheers from the crowd. The girls on stage rocked their hips from side to side and then the lights went out. They all changed position and did it again when the lights flashed back on and off. More cheers. The lights came on a third time and then went off. Now she had to go. Quietly, she was able to rush into the middle of the stage and strike a pose. Slowly, the lights became brighter and she put on her performance girl smile and lifted her head to look at the audience.
Musical notes practically exploded from her mouth as she began singing and the others sang her back up. The music picked up and the dancing became exciting when they tore off the long slip at the bottom of Aurora's emerald green dress revealing a very, very short flapper. While they danced, Aurora kept her eyes out for the cops.
"Of all places to take us, Gideon takes us to a Burlesque Bar." FBI Agent Derek Morgan laughed, settling back into his velvet armchair at the very back of the smoky building.
Having just gotten off of work, FBI Agent Jason Gideon had decided to take his men out to see a good old-fashioned show without strippers. Along with him he brought a well-liked and sought after man, Derek Morgan, and a very reluctant, meek little Doctor—Dr. Spencer Reid. Morgan was positive he saw his friend having a mini asthma attack from all the smoke in the room.
"Actually this one is called a Burlesque Hall. The building is built in such a fashion to mimic the set of an old 1930's English hall where orchestras would play—it's been revamped and the bar was probably added in later, seeing as how the wood looks new and spotless." The young Dr. Reid mumbled, placing his satchel in his lap, the strap still looped around his shoulder. Morgan smirked and rolled his eyes.
A busty girl bent over beside them and handed Morgan a beer, placed Gideon's Bloody Mary in front of his empty seat, and handed Reid his mug of hot coffee with extra packets of sugar and some creamer. They thanked her and they each sipped their drinks.
"So why did Gideon decide to take us here?" Reid asked after he cringed at his sip and added two more packets of sugar. Morgan shrugged and swigged his beer. He set it down and swallowed his large gulp of alcohol.
"He just said it would be fun to hang out with us after work. So he suggested we come here. Why, you feel uncomfortable, genius?" he teased. The awkward doctor shook his head and tapped his feet as Gideon approached his chair.
He sat down with a grunt and a sigh, grabbing his Bloody Mary, "Ahhh…they have very nice bathrooms here." He muttered monotonously before taking a bite of his celery and sipping his Bloody Mary gingerly.
"Hey, how come Hotch isn't here?" Morgan asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.
Gideon looked up at him and shrugged, pressing his lips together, "Said he wanted to go home and spend time with his wife. More than we can say."
Morgan laughed as the spotlights on the empty stage began to dim until they were off. Everyone got silent and Reid shifted in his seat so he could get a better look at the actual stage. He could see the silhouettes of girls moving onto the stage fluidly, getting ready for their next number. Morgan cracked his knuckles together and licked his lips, preparing himself for the amazing presentation he was about to see. Gideon smirked at the both of them and sipped his Bloody Mary again, biting into his celery quietly.
Lights turned on, showed the girls, turned off, darkness. This repeated two more times, each time the girls were in different poses. When the lights began to fade from black, all three saw a woman in a more elaborate set up of costume. The same emerald green, though a bit darker, and her dress was longer, reaching to the floor. She lifted her head and smirked at the audience before opening her mouth to sensually sing.
Gideon's smirk widened when she finished her first line, and the dramatic pause enveloped them. Reid's brows rose high on his forehead, and Morgan let out a quiet 'hot damn' when she belt out the next note. The beat picked up and they all started dancing elaborately, pulling off the long skirt of her dress so reveal a shorter one, allowing her to dance with them.
After much clapping and whistling from Morgan, the number ended with a grandiose pose with all the girls surrounding the singer. The crowd went wild and stood up to cheer, including Morgan, who went crazy, shouting out bravo. He laughed, collapsing back into his chair. His smiling face turned to Gideon, thanking him for inviting them.
"Will there be an encore? Cause I would like to see a little more of that." He asked, pointing at the stage. Gideon stood up and stretched.
"There's time to meet the dancers, and then there is one last number—a solo for the singer." He sighed, rubbing his back.
"Are you all right, Gideon?" Reid asked when Gideon walked around his chair, heading towards the bathroom.
"I'm fine, Reid. The Bloody Mary's here just run right through me. Call over the singer! I hear she enjoys men in uniform." He teased, rushing away from them.
Reid opened his mouth to protest, but the slam of Morgan's beer glass onto the table made him jump. Morgan grinned and clapped once or twice, "Sounds like a plan! Let's get her over here, see if she can give you a lap dance!"
"She's a burlesque dancer, Morgan, they don't strip or sell themselves to individuals for money." Reid sighed, shifting in his seat again. Morgan lifted his arm up to the sky and snapped, getting the attention of a man who looked to be in charge, a rather homosexual looking man.
He rushed over, "May I help you, sir?"
"Yeah, I'm Special Agent Derek Morgan, this is Dr. Spencer Reid, we're with the FBI and we would like to request a viewing with the singer who was just up on stage." He said to the man, smirking at him so he would understand the meeting wasn't for business purposes. The man just smiled and nodded.
"You called over just the right person, I happen to be the girls' personal assistant, let me go get her." He grinned, hurrying away through the tables towards the stage where men were helping the dancers down to spend time with them.
Up on the stage, the singer was kneeling down in front of two women who had been sitting in front, she seemed to be chatting with them and talking about normal things, laughing and smiling. The man appeared at her side and tapped on her shoulder, pulling her to feet. He pointed through the darkness towards Morgan and Reid and the girl followed his finger. Squinting towards them, he whispered something in her ear and she turned to him in surprise. Without question she was pushed towards the edge of the stairs and two of the male waiters grabbed her arms and helped her down.
Sauntering her way through the crowd, she proudly paraded herself over to their lounge area and set her hands on her hips, examining the two of them. She smiled at Morgan who was smirking up at her cavalierly.
"You boys in blue have requested a meet-and-greet?" she asked, making sure she was at the right table. Morgan nodded, "Sure have. I'm Derek Morgan, this is my colleague Spencer Reid."
"DOCTOR Spencer Reid." He corrected, sort of waving his fingers at her pleasantly. She nodded letting Morgan kiss her hand as she said, "Aurora."
Biting her lip, she pushed a strand of brown-blonde hair out of her face and sat down in his lap. Hesitantly, Reid lifted up his pointer finger, exclaiming, "Being called boys in blue refers to us as cops…we're FBI agents, to be precise." He said with wavering confidence.
Morgan had already begun to play with the sparkles on her dress when she looked over at him grinning. She pressed her lips together and patted Morgan's shoulder, standing up to face Reid, suddenly looking a little unnerved.
"FBI agents, huh?"
He nodded, "Th—that's right, m-m—ma'am. Special a—agents." He stuttered as she stepped closer to him.
"Don't mind him, I'm pretty sure he's afraid of women." Morgan laughed. She looked over her shoulder at Morgan and smirked. Carefully, she stepped closer and then planted herself on the arm of the armchair, playing with Reid's slicked back hair.
"Afraid of women? I don't think that's true."
Morgan laughed, "You don't believe me?"
"Well how could he be afraid of women? He's a big, bad, FBI agent…he isn't afraid of anything." She giggled, stroking his cheek. She could feel his skin growing hot, so she pulled her hand away so as not to make him feel uncomfortable.
Reid sucked in a breath and shrugged, "I have…a few f—fears actually. It's not uncommon for e—even the m—most brave of person to h—have a fear."
She laughed and nodded, playing with her hands, "I have no doubt about that, Dr. Reid. But your bravery, and what you do for this country—your fears pale in comparison to how brave you all are."
With a smirk, Morgan nodded in her direction, "Thank you ma'am. With your talent and patriotism, you should go into the USO." He joked.
Shaking her head she set her hand on Reid's shoulder and looked between the two of them, "I can hardly handle the compliments. Thank you. But my place is here…for different reasons." She muttered, looking around the room.
Carefully, Reid followed her line of sight and saw her staring at the manager, a large man with a baldhead and fingers covered in rings. He pursed his lips and continued to examine her. She didn't carry herself like a dancer or performer; she carried herself more like a professional—someone who works behind a desk. She seemed a little too clean cut on the inside to be working at the burlesque theater for whatever reason she was.
Out of nowhere, Gideon appeared and took them all by surprise. "What's this?" he laughed, looking at the three of them, "A lovely lady I almost missed meeting. I thought you two wouldn't have the guts to call her over and requested I get a private viewing for myself."
Morgan laughed and noticed how Aurora was just staring at Gideon in concentration, like her eyes were trying to penetrate him. Gideon just stared back and smirked. Reid definitely noticed it for he looked between them worried. He stood up and messed with his bag.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, Reid, don't worry. We'll be back in a few minutes." He nodded at his two agents. He held out his hand for Aurora to take. She shook herself out of a trance and smiled at him seductively, taking his hand, allowing him to lead her around the small table in the middle of the chairs and towards a small room.
Many of these rooms were lined up along the walls, waiting for people to come in with a dancer that they could privately talk to. Actually, they could do whatever they wanted; the rooms were cleaned at the end of the night, anyway. With suspicion in their eyes, Morgan and Reid watched as Aurora took the lead and pulled Gideon into the room and slammed the door.
"Weird." Morgan muttered.
"Jason what the hell are you doing here?" she barked, pushing his shoulder. He grunted and let her pace around the room for a moment before answering.
"I came to check up on you—"
She got back in his face, "Check up on me?" she cried out. He stuck his finger to his lips and she sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly, "if someone wanted to check up on me, you coulda just had them call me—not show up out of the blue with two of his own agents—I mean really Jason, really."
He rolled his eyes, speaking calmly, "Yes, Rory, really. I wanted to check up on you myself. I work with profilers, do you think they're just gonna let me go to a Burlesque Hall alone and not get suspicious."
"Men come to these things alone all the time—and did you say profilers?" she growled before stopping and glaring at him.
His mouth opened and closed, not knowing what to say, "Oh my God…Jason! You invited profilers to come and check up on an FBI agent that's supposed to see be undercover! What were you thinking?"
"Rory, they're not gonna say anything. If you they figure out something is going on, do you really think that one of your own is going to rat you out?"
Thinking, she stayed quiet and crossed her arms, staring at him intently. She wanted this to go well, she didn't expect something like this to happen. She wanted everything to run smoothly and not have someone figure out whom she was, even if they were FBI. For her, knowing it was super secret made her feel comfortable that the word wouldn't get out.
Gideon's strong hands grabbed her shoulders, "Now, tell me how it's been going."
With a sigh, she walked over to the plush couch and sat down. Playing with a pillow she shrugged, "I already sent in my photos of the manager making a deal. No one's gotten back to me on who the dealer actually is. I want a name before I send someone in to cuff him. And I've had no further luck on whether they're selling girls to the black market."
He sat beside her and rubbed his chin, "Did you get any kind of evidence? Even personal experience?"
"During auditions I tried to follow the manager when he took one of the girls, this Swedish girl, blonde, icy blue eyes, plump lips, overall busty, like we thought they liked, with him to go somewhere. I got as far as a door way backstage, but they had closed it before I could get to it."
"Have you seen her since then?"
"No, not since then. And the doors have been locked ever since. Occasionally I see the manager going in and out, but I can't figure out where the keys are—I never have time." She shrugged, thinking back on seeing the confused girl who could barely speak English be pulled alongside the manager. Guys moving sets got in her way and she wasn't able to get around them and through the door to follow them.
That day she wasn't very proud of herself. She didn't get much done except be accepted into the Hall. Gideon patted her knee and pulled her head towards his, kissing her temple.
"You're doing great. Keep up the good work."
"Thanks, Jas." She smiled weakly.
The door to the room flung open and the gay assistant poked his head in, "Aurora darling, it's time to get ready for the final performance."
She nodded and stood up, letting go of Gideon's hand. "Bye Jas." She whispered before rushing out the door.
With the grace of a swan, she flew around the tables of people towards the stage so she could mindlessly climb the stairs to enter backstage and go get ready. From behind her she could hear footsteps like someone was following her, and she hoped to God it wasn't Gideon. She didn't dare look over her shoulder. The assistant led her to the dressing room and pushed her in while the other girls, already in casual clothing, as they were not in the last number, were exiting.
Vi and Margaret were inside, in their casual clothes as well, waiting to help her into her final costume. She smiled at them and began to close the door behind her when a small voice piped up.
"Um, excuse me!" Dr. Reid called. Aurora jumped away from the door and the other girls screamed. He pushed open the doors and stared at them awkwardly. He lifted his hand up to wave.
"Hello." He muttered.
Trying to keep her cool, Aurora let out a silent breath and smiled, "Hello Spencer." She muttered, remembering his name.
She turned away from him and walked over to Vi and Margaret, who reluctantly reached for her flapper. Margaret jumped into the closet and pulled out a low-cut, dazzling purple dress, and Vi just unzipped the flapper. Aurora lifted her arms up over her head and held her hair up from her neck, looking over her shoulder at the now scarlet covered Reid.
He gulped and lifted a finger, "It's Dr.— "
"But you don't mind that I call you Spencer…do you?" she muttered, trying to sound sensual. He shook his head and coughed, "N—no, not a—at all."
The zipper on the back of her flapper finally came down, exposing her bare back. She could hear him shift and back towards the door, exclaiming quickly, "Maybe I should come back afterwards."
"Spencer, just turn away. It will be over quickly." The flapper fell to the ground as Reid spun away, facing the open door. She stepped out of the dress and into the purple one; the form fitted one that cascaded away from her form at her knees, loosening up like a mermaid's tail.
"What do you need, Spencer?"
The zip of the dress caused him to cough and Margaret and Vi stepped away from Aurora. She turned around and set her hands on her hips, checking herself out in the mirror. Wide hips, small waist, nice legs and arms; she looked quite convincing as a voluptuous dancer. "You can turn around now."
He turned to face her and just stared her in the eye. He looked between Vi and Margaret and then back to Aurora, "Can I speak to you in private? About something…private?" he asked. Aurora stayed quiet and then nodded towards the door. Vi and Margaret scurried past him, each giving him a look of suspicion, and then a look of worry when they noticed his badge and gun.
The door shut and he let out a sigh of relief. She smirked, sitting down at her table, having to re-do her make-up now.
"What is this private matter we have to talk about?"
"You don't seem like a dancer to me." He shrugged, getting it out quickly, walking up behind her. She looked at him in the reflection of the mirror and blinked.
"Excuse me?"
He started to play with his hands, emphasizing his words, "You don't have the mannerisms of a dancer. Dancers walk with this attitude that shows that they have this sort of…high authority. Not to say that dancers are overly prideful, but they walk with a kick in their step, like they can out do whatever is thrown at them. Not to say you aren't a wonderful dancer but…you seem stiff. Like this isn't your right environment."
She shrugged, "I don't know what you mean."
"You're an FBI agent." He muttered, looking up at the badge. She spun around in her seat.
"That's my brothers, he's dead." She said quickly.
"Your reaction proves that it isn't."
"And why is that Dr. Reid?" she asked, quirking a brow.
"If you weren't an FBI agent, so worried about blowing your cover, which you seem to be now, you would've calmly told me about your brother. Though I can tell that your brother is dead. But not because he was an FBI agent."
Her eyes widened and she stared him up and down. Gideon said they were profilers but this kid was out of this world. He spoke like he knew everything. She stood up and walked towards a table covered in community make-up, pretending to rummage through it. He followed her.
"I'm not trying to unnerve you, Aurora, I'm just trying to point out the obvious. If I'm the only one that can see it, everyone else is too clueless to notice." He muttered, trying to sound sure of himself.
This kid was starting to piss her off greatly; she didn't know what to say without sounding rude and further giving away her cover. She leaned on the table and didn't dare look at him, "So your theory is…because I don't act like a dancer…I'm not a dancer. And because I'm sensitive about my FBI brothers death, that I'm the FBI agent? Your theories are proving to be a little wacky don't you think, Dr. Reid."
"I have an IQ of 187, I have an eidetic memory, I can read 20,000 words a minute and I have three Ph.D.s. I know enough to see that you're undercover. And that's not a bad thing. I'm—I'm on your side." He shrugged. But no one could know. Casually, she turned around and walked past him, carefully sitting down on her stool so as not to ruin any of the sequins on her dress.
Reid looked down at his hands, "I'm trustworthy. Or at least I'd like to think I am. I got here because I'm good at what I do…and I know I'm good at what I do. You don't need to admit that you're an FBI agent—because I know you are." He muttered, his voice quiet, barely audible, like he was trying to read it through his head to make sure he didn't say anything stupid.
She continued to put on her make-up, occasionally looking up at the badge. She sighed and set her make-up down, closing her eyes. They stayed quiet. He took a step towards her.
"I could tell Gideon, even though I guess he must already know, looking back at your behavior earlier. The whole BAU could keep it a secret. Even Morgan." He pointed out.
The idea of him mentioning it to anymore of the FBI sent a chill up her spine. She wanted this strictly confidential. While he rambled about precautions they could take and how they could help, she reached into a drawer of the table and pulled out her gun. When he wasn't looking she lifted it up, cocked it and stood up to point it in his face.
"Dr. Reid, I want you to listen and listen as intently as possible."
He gasped and backed away, putting his hands up in defense, "Okay."
"I don't care how good of a profiler you are. Whatever notion you have of me, of all people, being an FBI agent? Yeah, I want you to wipe those from your eidetic mind and don't ever let it come back you got that? I've spent a lot of my damn time trying to work up to where I am, and I deserve to be the lead dancer at this Burlesque Hall despite my attitude, or my stance, or my personality—or whatever you profilers like to look for. Those ticks mean nothing about me—you don't know anything about me. Now…if you don't get out of my dressing room, I'll have you and your little posse of FBI goons kicked out of his Hall and you will never be allowed back. EVER…again."
Reid was now backed up against the door, the gun pointed at his nose. He nodded and looked from the barrel of the gun to her eyes; her stone cold eyes. She smirked.
"Good boy. Now get out." She muttered, dropping her gun to her side and stepping away from him. She spun around to walk back to her desk, gazing up at her badge.
The door opened, and she expected it to close immediately, but it didn't. Instead he turned back to her and said, "After that speech, I would probably have the notion that I should believe you. But noticing your gun—a government issued gun—I don't think I will. Sorry for bothering you."
Giving her one last look and a quiet, sheepish good bye he disappeared into the hallways where the gay assistant passed him. Her eyes widened at his words and she threatened to throw something at the door and scream until the assistant popped in out of nowhere.
"Aurora—Auror—my, my who was that skinny little fellow?" he asked, stepping inside.
She glanced at him and sat down on her seat, looking back into the mirror, staring at herself, "An FBI guest who wanted one last talk with me."
"Goodness, you must've scared the virginity out of that poor boy—he looked like you had thrown him to the moon and back. Impressive."
Aurora sighed and nodded, biting her lip, "Thanks Gus."
"Hurry up and put your face on, you've got two minutes."
Reid arrived back at the group of chairs and sat down. Morgan squinted at him, "Where the hell did you go?"
He looked up at Gideon and Morgan, rubbing his hands on his pants, "I went to talk to Aurora."
Immediately, Gideon sat forward, "Why?"
Nervously, Reid shifted in the seat and looked between Gideon and the floor. He licked his lips, trying to find the words, "I'll—tell you later." He muttered. Gideon sat back in his seat, keeping an eye on the young agent. The lights began to dim and the crowd cheered.
They all looked towards the stage and one spotlight came on to reveal Aurora in her purple dress, her make-up completely re-done. She had her hands on her hips, waiting for a big band solo to finish before she swayed her hips back and forth singing Wheel of Fortune by Kay Starr.
Morgan smirked, "My mother loves this song."
"Don't they all." Gideon smirked.
Reid furrowed his brow and watched her sing. Her body language had changed. She seemed more fluid with her movement, walking around with a delightful, yet eloquent flow in her step that gave off her dancer cover. Reid tried not to smirk too widely, for fear of someone noticing, especially Gideon who already seemed apprehensive.
They all watched as the number finished and she received a standing ovation. After bowing, Aurora indirectly pointed at Reid and blew him a kiss, winking, her smile full of mockery.
He tried not to blush.