Another day, another brutal murder, eh? Thanks for spotting my glaring proofing errors, ChasingWolves, I clearly wasn't with it when I posted this :) Enjoy!

Essential listening: Can't Trust Anyone, Oh No Not Stereo

0o0

Grace Pearce opened her inbox with the weary acceptance of an FBI agent who knew that the standard working email traffic in the BAU was roughly proportional to the number of people on the planet. When she'd looked first thing there had been seven hundred, just over half of which weren't relevant to her, or counted as interdepartmental spam. She'd managed to whittle it down to about two hundred with things that only needed one or two sentences, and then finally started on the real emails.

Honestly.

They'd only been out of the office for two days.

She glared at the four hundred and thirteen new emails in her inbox and resigned herself to a morning of near pointless electronic platitudes. Really, it would be so much simpler if they all went back to writing letters; at least with something physical you had to think about a message before you sent it.

Instant communication had a lot to answer for, in Grace's book.

She spared half a glance for Doctor Spencer Reid, who was, at present, sitting on SSA Derek Morgan's desk, waxing lyrical about physics and Star Wars. From the expression on Morgan's face, the current topic was unwelcome, even for someone currently reading a report on a serial strangler in Massachusetts.

Although the majority of the team would probably be described as nerds by the general population (both Morgan and SSA Emily Prentiss were Vonnegut fans, Garcia spent half her time at sci-fi conventions and SSA Aaron Hotchner occasionally quoted Shakespeare when he was bored) Reid could go on four hours when something got him started.

Grace shared a smile with Prentiss, who looked like Reid was somehow boring a Star Wars shaped hole in her brain.

"A popular theory among leading astrophysicists estimates that the hyper-matter reactor would need about ten to the thirty-second joules of energy to destroy a planet the size of Earth," Reid said, utterly absorbed.

Morgan shot Grace a despairing look over the partition between their desks. She turned back to her emails and pushed her unruly, honey coloured hair out of her eyes, smiling slightly.

"Now, Lucas said that it took nineteen years to build the first Death Star," Reid continued. "But if you look at The New Essential Chronology, there's a test-bed prototype for a super laser that's been –"

Grace looked up as Morgan got to his feet. The movement even derailed Reid.

"Where are you going?" he asked, watching his friend leave.

"Takin' back the last five minutes of my life," said Morgan, making a beeline for SSA David Rossi's office, which had just been vacated by the decorators.

Reid got up and followed him.

"You can't go in there," he frowned.

For a moment he looked so much like the nerdy kid in class who knows his friends are going to get him into trouble, but hasn't yet resigned himself to the detention that is coming, that Grace laughed.

He shot her a withering look and she shook her head, smiling.

"Don't you wanna know about this guy?" Morgan asked, waiting for him to catch up.

"I do," said Emily, sticking her hand up and joining Morgan on the stairs.

"No, I'm good," said Grace, watching her colleagues with amusement.

"You really gonna pass this up, Pearce?" Morgan asked, teasing her.

"Pretty sure. Hey, when you guys when through my desk when I first arrived, did you happen to find a stapler? I'm sure I'm supposed to have one."

"We never went through your desk," said Emily, laughing.

"Oh?" said Grace innocently, raising her eyebrows. "So what's so different about him?"

She nodded at the door to Rossi's office. It was ajar, tempting her fellow agents just enough to drive them insane.

"You've seen how he is," Morgan said, darkly.

Grace made a non-committal sound and turned back to her emails. Rossi had been out of the game for a while, but he was learning – and his years of experience made him a great sounding board. The fact that Morgan didn't like him didn't mean he wouldn't be an asset to the team.

Morgan didn't like change, and there had been a lot of that lately. There was just something about Rossi's old-fashioned style of working that rubbed him the wrong way. They'd get over it, it would just take a little time.

"I wonder if Garcia knows a way to redirect some of this crap…"

For a few moments, she felt their eyes on her, but she ignored them. She had got herself in trouble a lot over the years, but thus far was managing to keep her nose clean in Virginia, and was trying to keep it that way – or, at least, trying to keep her head down as much as possible until her inner imp inevitably burst forth.

"I've got it all memorised – his books, his bio," said Reid, returning to the argument.

She heard Morgan set off up the stairs, Emily close behind him.

"Yeah, books that sold over a million copies," said Morgan.

"So?"

It sounded like Reid was lingering behind his friends, not wanting to intrude.

"That's a million reasons not to come back, if you know what I'm sayin'."

Morgan's voice grew quieter as he passed into Rossi's office. Grace looked up in time to see Reid shoot one last, reluctant, glance at her before hurrying after Morgan and Prentiss.

"Peer pressure," she murmured, fondly. "Gets them every time."

Giving up on the emails, she decided to hunt down Garcia and see if she knew any electronic shortcuts. Halfway out of her chair she spotted David Rossi, watching the door to his office like a hawk, clearly entertained.

Uh oh, she thought.

0o0

He'd seen the little pantomime play out across the bullpen with mild amusement. The younger members of his team looked like a bunch of high-schoolers sneaking into the principal's office – all except Pearce. He glanced at her desk. In the time he'd been watching the office she seemed to have evaporated.

Well, if they wanted to play it that way…

He waited until Doctor Reid was inside the office before moving to just outside the door.

"… it's a new chapter for him?" Prentiss said.

Rossi guessed they had been trying to profile his bare walls. He smirked. He could have some fun with this.

"Whatever happened to the moratorium on inter-team profiling, guys?" Reid asked.

Rossi smiled. So, that was a thing, was it? He supposed they didn't really think of him as part of their team, yet.

"Come on Reid, 'team'?" he heard Morgan scoff. "I don't think this guy knows this meanin' of the word."

There was a pause including a rustle of fabric. Rossi imagined Morgan rooting around under the dust sheets covering his new desk.

"I found somethin'," the younger agent said.

Rossi watched Reid's shadow move further inside to get a better look. Clearly, curiosity was winning out over discretion today.

"Looks like some type o' religious art."

Rossi nodded. That wasn't why he'd bought it, but it was still true.

"Original, maybe?" Morgan asked. "Definitely expensive."

There was the sound of someone expelling air from their cheeks.

"Renaissance art," Reid remarked, sounding impressed. "If that's original…"

"Is it?" Prentiss whispered.

"I don't know, it's kinda hard to tell…" Reid appeared to be taking a closer look at the sketch. Rossi bided his time, curious to hear their assessment of him. "It means he's into the classics."

"What else?" Morgan prompted.

"Uh… Italian, strict Catholic upbringing – probably believes in redemption."

Rossi chuckled. Not bad – not quite right, but not bad. He emerged from behind the door, putting on his very best stern expression. The one he used for serial killers, or when his publisher wanted to sacrifice fact for writing style.

"Oh, I believe in a lotta things," he said casually, enjoying the shock of his appearance run through their startled and guilty looks. "Catholic – yes. Italian American, fifty-two years. Strict upbringing – not so much."

None of them would meet his eyes as he strolled over to Reid.

"Now the artwork, that's fifteenth century original," he said, and was rewarded by all three sets of eyebrows rising in time. "Cost more than my first house – and as for the wall colour? It's just a base coat. Painters'll come in and finish tomorrow."

He managed not to grin as Reid handed him back the sketch. He was about to continue ribbing them for a little while longer, but Pearce stuck her head through the door.

"Oh, there you all are," she said, with a blithe smile. "JJ and Hotch are ready for us." She paused and seemed to take in the chastened expressions of her colleagues. "Unless I'm interrupting?"

He nearly laughed as three of the BAU's finest took the opportunity to scurry past her.

"Agent Pearce?" he asked, as she made to follow them.

She stopped and gave him a politely inquisitive look; he simply met her gaze. After a moment, Pearce smiled slightly and nodded to the sketch.

"May I see?" she asked, confirming his suspicions that she, too, had been eavesdropping.

He held it out and she whistled appreciatively.

"There's something about Renaissance art," she remarked, examining the picture. "The way they captured the movement of the body – it's unlike any other period."

She handed it back and he agreed.

"Don't think too poorly of them," she said, looking at him along her shoulder. "Trust is earned and they don't know you yet."

"And what do you think?" he asked, after a moment. "Do you trust me?"

"Don't know yet," she admitted, and glanced at the bare walls. "I don't trust easily."

"Tough lesson?" he asked, watching her face carefully.

"One I think you've learned, too," she offered, without directly agreeing.

They studied one another for a moment, and Rossi decided to change the subject.

"You weren't tempted?" he asked, nodding after the rest of the team.

"No," she said, quite openly. "If I was going to go snooping I'd have waited until I was sure you were out of the building – or possibly out of the state."

Rossi chuckled.

"Besides," she went on, "I prefer to build up a profile of a colleague by observing their behaviour in person. It's too easy to make an incorrect assumption and run with it."

"And what have you gleaned? What kind of person am I?"

"Complicated," she said, after a moment, and Rossi had to concede that this was true. "As are we all."

Rossi nodded, and in the spirit of the conversation he asked, "You always come to their rescue?"

"Don't generally have to," she laughed. "May I ask you something?"

"Observing me in person?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Something like that," she smiled. "Why did you come back?"

He had been ready for it, but it still surprised him that she had been so direct. He supposed it was just her way of doing things. Well, two could play that game.

"Unfinished business," he told her. "Why did you leave London?"

"Needed a fresh start," she said, without missing a beat. Her smiled broadened. "The truth, but none of the detail. For both of us, I think."

Rossi grinned.

"Something like that," he echoed. "Shall we?"

They walked companionably enough to the conference room where several of the team looked edgier than usual. Agent Pearce seated herself on a filing cabinet at the back of the room.

So, she doesn't entirely see herself as a part of the team either, thought Rossi.

Whatever she had left behind in England must have been pretty brutal.

"Great Falls, Montana," JJ began, gesturing towards the presentation. "Over the past fourteen months, three women have been reported missing." Rossi took a seat beside Hotch. "Michelle Lawford, Jennifer Hillbridge and Darcy Cranwell. All young, Caucasian brunettes. After an extensive search all were presumed dead by local authorities."

"So, at least we know he has a type," Prentiss observed.

"And now there's a fourth woman missing," said JJ, clicking the screen. "Angela Miller. This morning, she and her car went missing from a small grocery store while her husband and son were inside."

"This morning?" Reid asked, surprised.

"Montana's requesting our help?" Rossi remarked.

He never thought he'd see the day, not after Waco.

It was going to be a long day.