This is my first Criminal Minds fanfic- enjoy :)
"Fuck," I muttered as boiling hot coffee splashed over the lid of my thermos and onto my hand. Wincing, I slowed my pace and quickly dabbed at my thermos to get rid of the liquid, and checked my hand. A bit of a blister, but nothing that wouldn't recede in a few hours. I kicked open the door that led to the BAU headquarters, entering the large office sideways as I glanced up from my hand. Agents were seated in their cubicles, either chatting or monotonously going through paperwork. Without hesitation I strode past them and glided up the stairs to an office adorned with a plaque that read, "Aaron Hotchner." With a quick knock, and an even faster response, I opened the door.
"Avery Carter. Pleased to meet you, I'm SSA Hotchner."
I walked in to the room and shook the agent's hand. He was tall, trim, and stern; as if the frown he was wearing at present was eternally permanent.
"Pleased to meet you too, sir."
He sat down, and motioned for me to do the same. "I've taken the liberty of looking over your file- I'm correct in understanding that you were recommended to me by Erin Strauss?"
"Yes, sir," I responded carefully. I glanced around his office. Pictures of a young child adorned his desk, but no picture of a wife. Other than that, it was sparse. It was evident that either his life revolved around his job, or he didn't want to bring his personal life into his work environment. Possibly both, I mused. A few beats of silence passed.
"You graduated college early," SSA Hotchner said abruptly. "You have a masters at the age of 21, which is under the age requirement for the FBI."
"Agent Strauss said that wouldn't matter," I said briskly. We made tense eye contact.
"You majored in political science with a concentration in 'political psychology'."
"Yes, sir."
"Why did you graduate early?"
I swallowed. "The opportunity arose and I took it."
"Why did Agent Strauss want you to work for the BAU?"
"That's between me and her, sir. You'll have to trust her judgment on that." SSA Hotchner lifted his head and gave me a quick look of suspicion. Sighing, he shuffled my file on his desk and checked his watch. "We need to get going. JJ's found a new case."
"JJ?" I asked, grabbing my bag and thermos.
"That would be Special Agent Jareau." We left his office and SSA Hotchner shut the door loudly behind me. In seconds, he was opening the door to a large conference room, where about five other agents were seated.
"Agents, this is Avery Carter. She'll be joining the team on Strauss's orders." I paused as I glanced at them. A man of distinct Italian heritage stood up, and extended his hand. I shook it firmly.
"SSA David Rossi," the man said. I mustered a polite smile. The other agents introduced themselves to me in turn. The nerdy, slender young man was Dr. Reid; a raven haired woman with a penetrating gaze was SSA Prentiss; an imposing blonde was SA Jareau; and a well-muscled man with a devilish grin was SSA Morgan. I sat down quietly between Rossi and Prentiss. Agent Jareau- JJ., I realized- stood up and a grisly image flashed on the screen.
"5 days ago three college students were found beaten to death in the basement of the chemistry department building at Reed College, which is just outside of Boston, Massachusetts."
"So why did BPD call this in to us, if it happened 5 days ago?" Morgan asked, his eyebrows furrowed.
JJ gave him a glance before another picture popped up on the screen. "Yesterday, 3 more students were found in the same condition in the basement of the building that houses the Art History department. All of the victims were beaten so badly that it's taken longer than usual to identify the bodies, but we know four of the victims. Andrew Bell, Blake Carlton, Olivia Mayhugh, and Vanessa Tweedy."
"The unsub crossed racial and gender boundaries," Prentiss noted. "He doesn't seem to care about what his victims look like, so it's not likely that there's a sexual element to these crimes."
I chimed in. "The overkill suggests that he most likely knew the victims, if he wasn't a sadist."
Hotch nodded. "For whatever reason he's killing, he's spiraling. He kills in threes, suggesting that there's a reason he sticks to that pattern."
"It could be like that one case we had with the girl who killed in threes," Reid added. "The unsub may have a form of OCD."
"If he is, the compulsion will get stronger each second. We don't have time to waste. Wheels up in 30," Hotch said sharply, standing up. The rest of the team stood up as I lagged behind, confused.
"We're boarding the plane in 30 minutes," Morgan said, brushing my shoulder. "Welcome to the team, newbie." I grinned softly, grabbing my bag as I left the room. Luckily, Hotch had told me to pack enough clothes for a few days before I came.
An hour later, I was sitting on the plane in a secluded corner. I patiently sat there, watching the rest of the team as I zoned out periodically. We had taken off a while ago, and since then I had slipped into the farthest seat away from the others. A ping sounded from the monitor next to Hotch, and a vibrant woman who immediately caught my interest flashed on the screen.
"Hello my lovelies."
"Hey, dollface," Morgan said casually. My eyebrows raised for a fraction, and I forced them back down. "What have you got for us?"
"Nothing good, like usual around here," she sighed. "Another victim was identified- Gabriel Pollard. All of the students identified this far are freshmen and sophomores; between the ages of 18 and 21. Children," the woman finished sadly.
"They're technically adults," Reid said quickly.
Prentiss looked over to the monitor. "Garcia, what can you tell us about the connections between the victims?"
"See, that's the big problem that is currently eluding my magical psychic scooby-dooby skills," Garcia said, frustrated. "None of their classes overlapped and none of them were living in the same dorm- who is that?" She stopped abruptly, her surprised gaze fixated on me. I immediately blushed as everyone turned to look at me.
"Special Agent Avery Carter," Hotch sighed. "I forgot to tell you, Garcia. She's joining the team."
"Oh," she responded, shocked. I could feel a soft blush creeping up into my cheeks.
"Call us when you find something new," Morgan said.
"Aye aye, captain." The monitor turned black again.
"So he's crossing racial and gender boundaries, and he doesn't seem to care about the specific relationship between the students," Morgan said, tapping his pen against the armrest of his seat. "This guy just doesn't care who he's killing."
"They could be surrogates," Prentiss argued. "Just because he's not a preferential murderer doesn't mean the victims don't symbolize individuals in his life."
"So you're saying that he might be drawing his rage from a group, rather than from an individual?" J.J. asked.
"They could have been bullied in high school, and when they got to college they thought it would change, but it didn't," Reid said softly. I shot him a quick glance. It seemed like he was speaking from experience.
"So right now we're probably looking for a male in his late teens and early twenties," Rossi noted. "Probably suffers from anger management issues and had a rough adolescence. He would fit the school-shooter typology."
"School shooter typology?" I asked.
"Even though he's not using a gun to inflict the murders, all of the signs point to a young man intent on seeking revenge for perceived and experienced wrongs," Hotch responded briskly. I nodded. "We're about to land," he continued. "Rossi, take Carter, Reid, and Prentiss to the crime scenes. J.J. and Morgan will go with me to the police station."
An hour later, I was quickly walking through the crowded walkways of an obviously uneasy Reed College. My credentials flashing in the breeze, I could see the students turning in interest as Rossi, Reid, Prentiss and I followed the college dean, Robert Elliot. It was April, and I briefly reminisced on my experience in college. It wasn't as tranquil and carefree as the traditional college experience- I had willingly been placed on a fast-track to a masters degree, and after what happened during that summer...college hadn't been a happy time.
"Should we evacuate the school?" Robert asked. His brow had been shiny with perspiration since we had informed him that he had a serial killer in his student body. The green trees slowly blew in the wind, sending scents of wildflowers towards me.
"I don't know how useful that would be," Reid responded. "It's likely the unsub would resurface again once classes restarted." I was trailing the back of the group, where I usually preferred to be; I liked to survey the surroundings, and keep an eye behind us. I watched Reid. From what I could gather, he was a highly intelligent individual; I didn't know exactly how high his IQ was, but it was evident that he had an eidetic memory as well. He lacked general social skills, and most likely suffered from some form of social anxiety at some point in his life. Tall and lanky, he didn't strike an initial observer as a private agent. I turned my gaze to Prentiss. She was imposing and serious, with striking features and jet-black hair. She was intelligent but more aggressive than the others, making her appear more intimidating to the general population. Voices called me back into my surroundings.
"Carter," Rossi said. I blinked and looked at him, immediately alert. "You're with me. We're going to check the second crime scene. Prentiss and Reid, you go to the first." They nodded, and we split up. Robert left to go meet with the head of campus security, and Rossi and I began our walk to the art history department.
"Pleased to meet you, Agent Carter," Rossi said gently. For a moment, I felt relieved. He seemed to be the first agent who didn't obviously treat me with suspicion. "Is this your first case?" We walked down the sidewalk, shady trees blowing in the wind.
"Yes," I responded. I flashed him a glance. "Luckily I'm familiar with the area, I don't feel too out of place."
"You're from here?" Rossi asked in surprise. I shook my head.
"Not Boston," I replied. "Portsmouth, New Hampshire. I've been to Boston a lot."
"Did you stay here for college too?" I hesitated, memories flooding back.
I released a deep breath. "Nothing left for me here. I went to Scotland for college."
"Which university?" Rossi queried.
I paused. Was he genuinely interested in me as an individual, or was he attempting to get something- anything, really -out of me? "Edinbrugh. I studied political science."
"What interested you about political science? I don't see you being a politician," Rossi said, giving me a once over. I had to agree. Messy, long, dirty blonde hair, slightly baggy cargo pants, and a loose sweater didn't really hint at political ambition.
I shrugged. "I was interested in psychology, but more about how it impacted policy," I said. "To me, political science is the empirical result of group and individual psychology."
"Interesting," Rossi mused, as we scuttled down the stairs of the art history department. As we entered the basement, an unmistakably dingy and musty smell pervaded my nostrils. I wrinkled my nose. Rossi sighed as we rounded a corner and stumbled upon the crime scene. Blood still stained the floor, and it was splattered on the walls.
"Who found them?" I asked, peering at the blood as I crouched on the floor.
"Allison Gonzaga," Rossi said. "Professor of Art History."
"She's been questioned, right?" I asked, stepping over the yellow tape to get closer to the walls.
"Yep. She didn't have anything to do with it," Rossi replied. "There's not much here," he said, disappointment creeping into his voice. "It's pretty straightforward. Bang, he hits them with something- most likely a baseball bat, or something of the sort, end of story."
I stood up, looking around the dusty corridor. "Yeah," I said, my voice slow, "but how did he get them down here? Why would three people willingly follow someone into a dirty basement?"
"They were probably lured down here."
"Under the ruse of drugs? Alcohol?" I pondered. "Those are probably the two main things college kids would go into a dark basement for."
Rossi pulled out his phone, and quickly speed dialed a number.
"Yeah, Hotch? Carter thinks the unsub is either a drug dealer or an alcohol provider," the agent said. After a pause, he said, "okay, sounds good." The line clicked off, and Rossi looked at me.
"Prentiss and Morgan are already headed back to the station," he said. "Let's get going. I think we have a profile."