Rossi looked around the office, finally sitting on the desk. As lost in thought as he was, he knew Hotch had walked in. He suddenly felt nervous as if he were getting a final back in school. The room was silent. Rossi could feel the tension between them, something that usual wasn't there.
"Rossi. I just received a letter of recommendation."
Rossi made himself look relaxed, though his mind was racing.
"You know she's too young," Hotch added softly.
Of course, he knew that. But, oh, how he didn't want to believe it. She needed his help for this and he would go down fighting for her, if need be.
"So was Reid," Rossi tried to reason.
Hotch looked at him, "Reid was of age when he joined us. We could be put in jail for child labor laws."
Rossi began to argue, "There must be someway—"
"No. Trust me, I've tried. I've never seen you like this, Rossi, and it scares me."
Rossi sighed and put his head into his hands. His head was aching and it was beginning to become blinding. "It's just… I knew her parents from high school. I feel…"
"Responsible?"
"Yeah."
The room grew quiet. It was almost too much to bare. Rossi thought of leaving when Hotch spoke again.
"What if she wasn't really a part of the team?" Hotch asked,k wonderingly.
Rossi thought he was crazy. "What?"
Hotch tried to explain it more, yet still being undescriptive. "What if we paid her for her services, but she wasn't a part of the team?"
Then, it clicked for Rossi. "Ah! Could that work?"
"Honestly, I have no idea. But, it's worth a try."
"I'll call her and tell her the news."
Rossi stood up and headed for the door. When his hand touched the door knob, he stopped and smiled, saying, "Aaron, you're a good guy."
The door opened and he left Hotch there to decide whether he had chosen the right thing to do. Later on, the call was short. She was excited to begin her job at the BAU. The next day, she was there, talking to Rossi when most of the BAU came in. She noticed, having heard of him before from Rossi, that Hotch had not come yet. The burnett, whom she reconized as Emily Prentiss, looked as startled as the rest of the team to see her.
"Rossi! I didn't know you had a daughter," she commented.
Rossi and the girl got up from their seats. Rossi smiled gently at the both of them, warming the young girl's insides.
"I don't. This is Dr. Sweeney Sparrow," he explained.
The thin, gawky man, Dr. Reid, peered at her as if he were trying to read her mind. "You look too young to have gone to medical school."
"So do you, Dr. Reid," she said smoothly, trying to back out of a conversation about her age.
Rossi quickly came to her aid, "She has two PhD's."
Dr. Sparrow nodded and added, "But, I did go to medical school for a year."
"Oh, great, another super genius. How old are you?" Derek Morgan asked, jokingly.
"That is classified information," she said mysteriously as the BAU stared at her as if she had grown a tail.
Hotch walked in the room, looking around him. Dr. Sparrow could tell that it was a habit, and a well used one at that. He looked slightly agitated.
"Why haven't we started yet?" Hotch asked. As he saw her, he put his hand out and she took it firmly, hoping he'd get the message. That she wouldn't be frivoulous or a feather weight or even a major burden.
Hotch smiled slightly and said, "You must be Dr. Sparrow."
They both sat down, looking at the screen. Garcia clicked the remote button, turning to a picture of two young girls and their dead bodies. Some of the team, such as Morgan and hotch, peered over to her to see if the bodies would affect her. Dr. Sparrow felt no illness at the images. She had seen too many bodies to be disturbed by the pictures.
"Well, you all get to stay home for this case. Here in D.C., the unsub is going to this club called—" Garcia said, being interupted by the thin, young man.
"The Viper Room."
Seeing the team look at him strangly, he lightly blushed and stuttered, "I – I read ahead…"
Garcia paused for a moment before continuing. "Uh-huh… Anyways, the unsub is raping and killing the vicims by hanging them."
"Prostitutes?" Morgan asked.
"Bingo bango bongo, baby."
Reid spoke again, as if determined to outbest the rest. Dr. Sparrow wondered if he was always like this, or if it was her presence that was causing it.
"What about DNA—"
The blonde girl added. 'Seaver,' Dr. Sparrow thought. "Or she."
As if he was confused, Dr. Reid slowly repeated her and continued, "…Or she… raped the victims, wouldn't there be DNA?"
"Actually, there was too much DNA, if you get my drift…" Garcia said.
Agent Seaver spoke again, "But, we've narrowed it down, right?
Dr. Sparrow decided to speak finally, somewhat enjoying the air of the conversation. "Actually, the mixture of semen and the such would make it near impossibe to find out who's is who's."
The burnett, Prentiss, asked, "What about people who came to the club last night?"
"Working on it."
The muscular black man, whom Dr. Sparrow had to keep reminding herself that his hane was Morgan, lookied up from the tablet. Even though she had a photographic memory, she always had trouble with names, ever since childhood.
"But, can't you call for a girl to come to you?" he asked.
Garcia sighed, "Only you would know that."
Hotch spoke, standing from his seat. "So, we check their phones."
Rossi, who had also gotten up, said," Then it's settled. Hotch and I will go to the dumpsite. The rest of you, split into groups."
"One group, go see the bodies. The other, go talk to the owner of the club."
Both of the men left, but not before saying good bye to the team. Dr. Sparrow slightly shrunk down into her seat, feeling less comfortable now that Dave had left. The BAU stared at her, as if they expected her to run after them. For a moment she concidered it, just to leave the horrible quiet the room rang with. But, she had to be strong.
"So," Morgan started, addressing the girl. "Dr. Sweeney Sparrow… I swear I've heard your name before…"
She sighed, "Think London musicals, Johnny Depp…"
Reid piped up, "Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street."
The people in the room looked more nervous, hearing of her namesake. The room was still, until Agent Seaver spoke, breaking the silence.
"That's rather ironic. Being named after a fictional murderer and working with the BAU."
Dr. Sparrow shrugged, "What can I say? My parents loved the musical and were expecting a boy."
Morgan stood up. "Well, Hotch won't be happy if he finds out we're standing here, gossiping."
"Technically, we're sitting," Reid stated.
"Watch it, Pretty Boy. Prentiss, Dr. Sparrow, and I'll go to the morgue. Seaver and Reid, go to the Viper Room."
After a few years in studying human behavior, Dr. Sparrow could tell that Reid was uncomfortable going to the club, even though it was closed.
"And I'll do the usual manning of the computer," Garcia joked.
After saying goodbye to Garcia, whom Dr. Sparrow noticed was very well loved, they left. She turned to go, stopped, and smiled at the remaining woman. She smiled back and Dr. Sparrow left to join her new co-workers.
Seaver got out of the car after parking across from the club. The flashing lights had been turned off, showing that the club was not open. Reid, getting out of the car, looked nervous and unwilling to go to the club. She knew of his awkwardness. If not for the intense situation, Seaver would have laughed at him. They walked inside, not speaking to each other. Nothing was too different about this club compared to others.
"Excuse me. Can I help you? This club is closed," Seaver heard behind her.
She turned to see a middle aged man with dark hair and light eyes. Not bothering to ask for his name or who he was, she knew instantly that he was the owner. Just by the way he looked in the club. As if he had created it for himself.
"Hi, we're with the FBI. We'd like to speak to you about the murders lately," she said confidently, speaking up for the apparently distracted Reid.
The man sighed, "I knew this was coming. Come on into my office."
Hotch looked at his unresponsive friend. He had been asking the same question for three minutes now and Rossi still hadn't answered. Rubbing his temple, Hotch tried again.
"Rossi. Rossi!"
Suddenly, he turned around, "Wha-?
"Why do you think the unsub is using an abandoned warehouse?" He asked slowly.
Rossi seemed to struggle with his own mind. "Um… Maybe he's ashamed and doesn't want to kill and be found out…?"
Hotch looked at him strangly. He hadn't heard such an unexplained hypothesis from this man since the first years of working with him, before the BAU.
"If you're really that worried about her, why didn't you take her with us?"
Rossi scratched his chin and shrugged lightly, "So she could relate with and be a part of the team, I guess."
"That was a wise decision. You were right to do that," Hotch commented.
"I know but… I can't help wondering and worrying."
Hotch slightly smiled at the other man, "Prentiss wasn't all that wrong when she thought that Dr. Sparrow was your daughter."
Rossi looked bewildered, "You heard that?"
He nodded. Rossi sighed and looked around the gloomy building. Buildings like thins reminded Hotch of so many things, it hurt. So many cases, so many deaths.
"What kind of warehouse was this, when it was still working?" Rossi asked suddenly.
"Concrete, I think," he said, knowing where his friend was going with this.
Rossi looked at him and said, "Let's find out about previous workers and owners, find out who has the keys to this place."
Hotch nodded again. He knew how hard it was to work when someone you cared about wasn't with you, you weren't able to ask how they were, unknowing that they were okay. He felt it everyday for his son, Jack. But, to be honest, he needed his co worker for this case. And he was glad to have him.
Prentiss looked around Morgan's car. Heading to the morgue with him might've been a lighter experience, but, he wasn't in a mood to be joking. Though Morgan usually got more emotional during these types of cases, he'd always been able to talk to the team, whether it be her, Reid, or Garcia. Dr. Sparrow hadn't been rude, but she had been mysterious to get Morgan angry. She wasn't too bad of a person, at least, that was what Prentiss had come to realize.
Dr. Sparrow's headphones were in and she was quietly studying the files Garcia had given her. Morgan's hand clenched onto the wheel, as if daring someone to anger him even more so.
Breaking the silence, Prentiss turned to Morgan, "You don't trust her."
He glanced at her. "I let her join, didn't I?"
She glared at him, "Morgan, don't insult my intelligence. I've been profiling fo rtoo lang and I've known you too long. You're keeping her close so you can keep an eye on her."
"Maybe I don't. What's so wrong about that?" he retorted.
Prentiss grinned, turning her head, "Nothing. I just wanted to know that I'm right."
Loosening his grip on the steering wheel, Morgan said quietly, "Is it really that noticable?"
"You only glared at her everytime you look at her," she said, nodding.
Morgan sighed and shook his head slowly, "I don't know why, but I don't trust her."
Prentiss looked at her friend then out her window, saying, "You'll get used to it. We all will."