A/n hello all. Here is my newest story. Be warned that this is written mostly in the first person and from the point of view of Agent Amy Ryan. The rating may go up to an M in later chapters.

Disclaimer: Only Amy and any other original characters are mine.

The large metal door swung open on silent hidden hinges. The room was stark white and empty except for a large conference table and several chairs, the lights above the room where as bright as those in a hospital operating room, and they hurt my eyes.

He gestured to the chair across the table and I sat down. "The assignment you've accepted is of the utmost importance to the agency. "

"I should have thought the safety of the country was more important," I responded a bit impatiently.

He waved off my concerns like they were nothing. "You know we don't answer to anyone but the Director, Agent Ryan."

"I know that, I'm just concerned at the attitude of the agency lately."

"I wouldn't question the motives of your superiors. Everyone here works for the good of this country. It is our ultimate goal."

I watched the man across from me. He was fat, with a bald spot in his dark brown hair at the top of his head. He wore a gold signet ring on his right pinky. It was some kind of fraternity ring. I think he went to Harvard. He was about five foot seven and his eyes were dark brown and cold.

"I hope that's true." I told him. "I'm doing this as ordered, because I believe the target to be as valuable as you do."

"I see you've done your homework."

"Yes… I know the target inside and out. I'll get the job done without exposing us."

"Good… you know what happens to you if you fail."

I suppressed the urge to tell this man in front of me not to waste his time threatening me. I've faced worse than the anger of the Director.

"Please don't threaten me Stanford. I don't need you to tell me what failure means."

Stanford slapped both hands on the table. "Don't presume to tell me what to do!"

I forced myself not to react. "If that's all, I'd like to go finish preparing for this job." I stood up and he scowled up at me.

"Just remember who you are and where your loyalties lie."

"I've never forgotten," I assured him.

"Your flight leaves at eight am. Everything you need to fit into your role will be on the plane. Don't be late."

I resisted the urge to pull my gun from the shoulder holster I wore and shoot this annoying man. It would be satisfying, but it would also get me killed.

"I'll be there," I left the room before he could lecture me again.

The hallway from the conference room to the elevators was silent. The sound proofing was excellent and it grated on my ears. I wanted to hear some loud rock and roll, or the horns of cars honking underneath the window of my apartment. Maybe the place I would be living in till my assignment was over would be a little noisy, and then maybe I would be able to sleep.

The elevator opened as soon as I pushed the call button. I entered the car and stood straight and tall throughout the whole ride to the surface. There was surveillance cameras everywhere in the compound and it wouldn't do to give into the exhaustion that was creeping up in my bones. He would see it as a weakness and any weakness now could set the hounds on me.

The drive to my apartment was tedious and very long that night. The traffic was terrible for that time of night. When I finally saw the accident in front of me it was too late to change my route. What is it about people that they have to slow down and look at stuff like that? I don't want to see the results of other people's stupidity.

My apartment is on the top of the building on the north east corner. It's a large loft, with twenty foot ceilings. The whole apartment is one big room. My king size bed sits against the north wall. The brass head board is an antique I picked up in California. The floors are hardwood, and the braided throw rugs were made by my grandmother. She passed away when I was sixteen. I miss her a lot. I have a computer station across from my bed that's glass and metal, and very modern. The printer's out of ink and paper, even though I don't spend much time here.

All the appliances are new and I put the kettle on for a cup of peppermint tea. The living area is in the exact middle of the fifteen hundred square foot apartment. I have maroon leather couches and a love seat. There is a matching leather easy chair and ottoman. The coffee table matches my computer station. It's all very neat and clean. There's no art on the walls. I'm never here to sit down and look at it.

The tea is ready and I go to pour out a cup and start the tea bag steeping. The smell of the tea begins to relax the muscles in my neck. Sometimes my job is too stressful to be dealt with, and I have to shut if off. I sit down on the loveseat and try to just concentrate on the white painted walls around me. It doesn't work. I can't get that face out of my mind.

My target calls to me. I go to my desk and pull out the file. I take it back to the love seat and sit down. I didn't need to read the first page. It was a description of my target:

Height: 6 foot 1 inch tall

Weight: 140 pounds.

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Brown

Name: Dr. Spencer Reid.

Education: University of Nevada Las Vegas,

Post Graduate education: Harvard

Honors received:

PhD: Mathematics

PhD: Psychology

PhD: Physics

Professional experience: Subject recruited to the Federal Bureau of Investigation in the fall of 2001 at the age of twenty one. After training, subject joined the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

I read the rest of the file even though I had memorized it long ago. There was a photograph of the young Dr. Reid in the jacket and I removed it. I didn't need to look at it. I couldn't get his face out of my mind if I tried. When I had first seen the photograph, I was unpleasantly surprised to realize that my target was so attractive. He looked as though he should be a model on the catwalk, not an FBI agent.

I had expected that Dr. Reid would have coke bottle glasses, pocket protectors, and bad acne. I never expected large chocolate eyes that seemed to look into mine from the file folder and read my soul. I never expected a long, lean body that induced sweaty erotic dreams, or hands that I wanted tangled in my hair. Yes… this eventuality would make the job more pleasant, but also more difficult at the same time.

I picked up the remote for the TV and turned it on with the DVD player. An agency made surveillance tape popped up on the screen. He was leaving the BAU's jet with his team in Los Angeles. The sun had been bright that day and he wore sunglasses over his incredible eyes, but somehow that made him even more mysterious. He wasn't smiling, but the way his body moved brought to mind a jungle cat stalking its prey. I tried to tell myself I was watching this as purely research to determine the best way to do what I had to do, but in reality there was no denying the wish in my heart that he wasn't my intended target.

I turned off the video and went to bed. My mind wouldn't let go of the images that had been imprinted there. His face was forever in front of my eyes, and I knew that I would dream about him again just as I had every night for the last three weeks. I knew my attraction to my target was dangerous. Emotional detachment was something I prided myself on, and losing it with this new assignment was freaking me out just a little.

I switched off the light over my bed and watched the moonlight leaking through the blinds over the windows. Tomorrow it begins.