A/N: So, this is my first attempt at CM fanfiction, but I gave it my best shot. The first chapter is a little shorter than the ones I usually post, and the following chapters should be a bit longer. Enjoy!
The sun shone brightly over the busy streets of New York City. Its residents trod the pavements with much hurry, looking straight ahead, avoiding eye contact. You wouldn't want to be caught staring at the wrong person, now less than ever. They held their phones close to their ears, shouting through the speakers in an effort to carry their voice over the noise of traffic, but not one dared stop and chat with a stranger.
These streets were dangerous with all their gangs and murderers and maniacs. But people learned to live with the fear. Yet now, they cast wary glances as they walked, their eyes flickering to heads that moved past them. Looking for a dark hoodie that covered a face. People were dying, shot down in the middle of the street. A serial killer, they whispered. New York remembers its monsters, and now, it was harshly reminded of one particular spawn. Of a time of terror. Son of Sam.
Yet what could they do?
A short, middle aged man with grey, curly hair and a messy beard, clad in an expensive suit , hurried on his way back to the office. The lunch break would soon be over, and he had mountains of work to attend to. He noticed a street vendor and his stomach grumbled, reminding him that he had yet to eat that day. He walked quicker, and failed to notice the black haired woman that walked towards him, her eyes darting over the street. She too had heard of the murders.
Their shoulders met painfully, the woman staggered and the man turned on his place, apologising with a gesture, before turning once again. He had not time to waste.
But he would never return to his office.
He stopped at the stand, ordering a bagel and then scurried to the end of the pavement, raising his right hand high in the air and whistling in an effort to summon the cab. He would never get in.
A man in a hoodie, much like those they whispered so much about, approached him from the back, pulled out a small gun, thus far hidden in his pocket, and shot him in the head, never breaking his stride. The man fell to the floor, dead.
In the first couple of seconds, very few noticed the dead man on the pavement, and when they did, they screamed. But one person happened to eye the same vendor, noticed the busy man, and watched as he died.
A short woman with curly black hair that was pulled in a messy bun, an oval face with a button nose and full lips, dressed in a reddish-purple keyhole blouse, blank pencil skirt that reached just above her knees and black heels, watched as a young, Caucasian man of about twenty five years took out a gun and put a bullet in the older man's brain.
Her grey eyes met the light green eyes of a killer, both recognizing the other for what they were. A murderer, and his only witness. But the man did not raise his gun again, simply kept on walking and turned right, disappearing from view. Perhaps he thought the woman would not remember him, perhaps he thought that shock would blur her memory. Or perhaps he did not care at all.
But this woman was... different. He would have been much wiser to shoot again.
A dreary night had fallen on the fourth day since the feds arrived to help. But from what he could tell, they were no closer to finding the sick son of a bitch than that posh British detective. The officer stretched, glancing down the street.
Security was tight, he thought as he tapped his gun, still in its holster, but would they really try to attack the Federal plaza?
No way in hell. Then again, if they came… they'd go through him. He glanced down the street again, looking just a little closer.
He was looking for a hoodie, and failed to notice a short girl across the street.
She glanced left, then right, and stepped forward, crossed one lane, stopped, tilted her head a bit as a silver sedan sped past her, and crossed the two remaining lanes, walking up to the middle age, slightly obese man who seemed to be looking for something on the far end of the street.
"Hello" greeted she, a brilliant, wide smile pulling on her lips and lighting up her face. But the man ignored her, possibly not having heard her at all.
But her smile never wavered.
"Sorry" said she "could I have a moment of your time?"
Finally, the man looked down at the oddly dressed girl with a British accent. She had on a grey, faded hoodie, old, torn jeans, black converse sneakers and a blue, woollen hat. Her clothes looked as if they had been lived in for some time, as if the girl was living on the streets. But her eyes were bright, she wasn't using, and her teeth, revealed by a wide, brilliant smile, were pearly white.
"Yes?" asked he, confused.
"I'm looking for Derek" smiled the girl, stating these few words in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Excuse me?" asked the officer, his hand once more reaching for his gun, his fingers tapping it twice, as if he attempted to reassure himself that it was still there.
"Oh, sorry" said she, frowning like a child, the skin of her nose wrinkling just between her eyes. "That's not it."
She stopped for a moment, as if trying to remember some long forgotten instruction. Her eyes lit up, and she grinned once more.
"I'm looking for SSA Derek Morgan".
The man stared down at her, not saying a word.
"You don't know him?" asked the girl, frowning at the thought. She pursed her lips before attempting to describe the man she wanted to see. "He's rather hard to miss I'd say. About a head taller than you, dark skin, dark eyes, bald, built like a bear?"
The officer remained mute, trying to decide what this girl, who appeared to be homeless, wanted with a fed. And what was with the way she addressed him?
"Oh," she said, another thought coming to mind. "I forgot to mention."
And with a wide smile, she earned herself an audience with an old, dear friend.
"I'm a witness."
The officer could not leave his post, so he reached for his radio, still strapped to his side and mumbled a few words into the speaker. The strange girl did not seem to hear what he said, rocking lightly on her feet, her eyes focused on some spot just right of the officer. She did not seem to see the policewoman who appeared from the building, nor notice the apprehension in either officer.
Shortly after, the strange visitor was following the policewoman through the dull, beige interior of the government building, glancing about curiously as she walked. They walked into a spacious room, filled with desks and chairs, littered with papers and broken with many doors branching off to other parts of the building. A group of agents was gathered in front of the mismatched pair, just before the whiteboard filled with various evidence materials. The officer was just about to call their attention to the new arrival, but the strange girl seemed to zone in on the group the moment she stepped into the room, and opened her mouth, beating the officer to it.
"Derek!" exclaimed she, a smile of delight blossoming across her face. The tall, dark haired man stopped talking, his dark eyes focusing on the unexpected interruption, and the rest of his team turned, following his gaze. A dark-skinned, broad shouldered man seated on one of the desks, his shoulders hunched with tension, turned his head instantly, his eyes just barely widening in surprise.
"Nell?" asked he, agilely jumping to his feet and striding across the room, the corner of his lips pulling up in a happy, if not surprised smile. The girl, Nell, was beaming at him, but made no other move to approach him.
He spread his arms a few paces away, and she mimicked the gesture, allowing herself to be swept in a tight, warm hug.
"Hello Derek!" called she, her voice muffled as her lips moved against his shirt.
His deep laughter rumbled in her ears, and he lowered his lips to her head, kissing the top.
"It really is you. It is so good to see you sweet thing!" his shoulders seemed to relax for the first time in several days, the warmth of the small girl in his arms spreading into his heart. He had not seen her in so long, and would rather not let go just yet. She wrapped her arms around his back, returning the hug with all her might.
"I did it" spoke she, and Morgan pulled back a little so that he could see her face.
"Did what sweet thing?" asked he, his brow creasing, not quite following her train of thought.
"I told them I needed to see SSA Derek Morgan, and here I am!" Nell responded with a wide, proud smile.
"That's my girl." grinned Morgan, bending his neck to kiss her forehead. His chest swelled with pride, as he remembered the three gruelling weeks spent drilling this simple phrase. Simple thought it might be, Nell had great difficulty in memorizing it.
Neither of the pair seemed to notice the curious gazes or whispered questions. And neither noticed the curvaceous blonde that walked into the room, immediately noticing female arms around her best friend. Penelope Garcia would never admit, to herself or anyone else, that her heart gave a little, painful lurch at the sight. She approached Emily, and whispered "Who's that?"
"Don't know" Emily whispered back, never turning her head, her keen eyes set on the scene playing out in front of her. Derek was very physical with the girl, setting no boundaries in terms of their private space, leading Emily to conclude that they were close, intimate even. But there was something odd in the way the girl responded to the hug. "but they're close. Doesn't look like she's just one of his flings."
"Oh" said Penelope, trying to see through Morgan's back. But he would soon grant her a better view of this strange invader.
"What are you doing here Nell?" asked Morgan, finally releasing the girl from his arms, worry casting its dirty shadow across his mind. As much as he loved to see her, Nell's sudden appearance scared him.
But she seemed to be fine, as well as she always was, and beamed up at him as she replied: "I'm a witness!"
His smile slipped from his lips at the news. He should have expected something like this.
"Sweet thing, what did you see?" asked he, though he could already guess the answer. Seven bodies and Nell popping up from thin air, there was no way in hell that there was no connection between the two.
Her smile disappeared, and her face fell a little as she replied "I saw a man gunned down by another man in a hoodie near a bagel stand two days ago".
Morgan raised a hand to her face, cupping her cheek, trying to contain his excitement. "Did you get a good look sweet thing?"
Nell pursed her lips, and then nodded once, confirming his hope.
"Nell listen to me, this is very important." he bent a little in his knees, coming to eyelevel with the girl "Did you remember the numbers?"
Please, thought Morgan, please let her have remembered the numbers. She could be their big break. They could crack this case wide open, he thought, knowing that Nell's mind transcended his in many ways, but only if she had a good day.
She seemed to be thinking for a moment, before breaking out in one more dazzling smile.
"Yes!" replied she, happy to be of help. Her eyes twinkled with delight as Morgan let out a breath, his face breaking into a matching grin. He stood up to his full height, and moved to stand beside Nell, placing a hand around her shoulders. Only then did he notice the curious eyes that now quickly left them, poorly masking their incessant staring. And by far the worst of them all was his baby girl, who had appeared from her lair in the meantime.
"Hey Hotch!" called he, stepping forward and giving Nell a little push, prompting her to follow. "We 'got something!"
As Derek finally moved, Penelope caught sight of this new arrival. This woman had pale skin, as if she had not seen the sun in years; long, straight black hair, an oval face with a small, button nose and large, doe-like eyes. And Penelope had to admit, with a slight pang in her stomach which she did her best to ignore, that she had never seen more striking, light grey eyes. There the woman stood, next to her chocolate god, and Penelope could not help but think that the girl looked every bit a goddess herself.
She heard Derek call out to Hotch, and as her boss made a step forward to meet the pair, Penelope trailed after him, along with the rest of the team. Hotch made no move to stop them, overlooking their curiosity this one time. If this girl had information to share which could help them, they would all need to be briefed as soon as possible in any case. Besides, he could dismiss them in a second if need be.
Penelope leaned over to JJ, whispering "She looks young."
"Yeah, maybe early twenties?" replied JJ, she too observing the girl. But unlike Penelope, JJ felt an inexplicable liking towards the girl. She felt a little guilty about it, knowing the peculiar situation between Pen and Morgan, but she could not help it. It was almost instinctual.
Morgan stopped in front of his boss, his arm still placed securely around Nell's shoulders.
"Let me introduce you" spoke he, "Nell, this is Aaron Hotchner, Hotch, this is Nellwyn."
Nell beamed at the stern looking man, offering her right hand for him to take. The man looked strict, but not threatening, and accepted her outstretched hand immediately, giving it a firm shake. Yes, decided Nell, she liked this man.
"It is nice to meet you Nellwyn" replied Hotch, slightly impatient to learn what information the girl had to offer.
"Please, call me Nell" replied she, and her accent rang across the room, only further puzzling those present.
"And this is Kate Joyner" continued Morgan, and Nell shook hands with the woman as well, delighted all the more as she noticed the woman's accent.
"Emily Prentiss" said Morgan, and Emily reached her hand to the girl, saying "It's nice to meet you."
"A pleasure to meet you as well" replied Nell, releasing her hand and turning to an older man whose face seemed to be set in an unintentional frown.
"A pleasure" giggled she, amused by his expression. Rossi, perhaps the only one in the team, noticed the signs. He was just speculating though. Then again, speculating is what he did for a living. And the girl seemed to be remarkably well adapted, in spite of her impairment. What a strange case.
"Jennifer Jareau" said Morgan, and Nell turned to the petite blonde, who was about her height, and shook her hand, thinking that this woman was really pretty. It was then that JJ recognized this odd feeling, and decided to rule write off her mothering instincts as her newly raging hormones.
And finally, Morgan turned to his favourite kid, speaking up and instantly recognizing his mistake. He had not seen Nell in too long.
"And this is Doctor Spencer Reid." Nell was about to reach her hand towards the tall man opposite her, but these words had her retracting her hand. Her smile fell for the second time, and all profilers in front of her recognized the shift from delight to guarded assessment. As if she perceived Reid to be a threat.
Spencer had initially offered her an awkward smile, but his gaze fell to the floor between their feet at her hostile expression.
"Doctor…" came her voice, guarded, defensive. "As in physician?"
Spencer cleared his throat awkwardly, more than aware of the pregnant silence, and looked up, briefly meeting her eyes, before quickly looking away.
"Umm.. no, not exactly." replied he "I um, have three PhD-s, um in chemistry-"
"Oh" interrupted she, her features twisting with dislike "you are that kind of a doctor."
"Nell!" said Derek, quickly trying to fix his mistake. "You know better than to be rude sweet thing. We talked about this."
She did not reply, but the profilers in front of her noticed a shift in her weight, indicating that she had understood the message well.
"Sorry kid, she needs a filter for that little mouth" smiled Derek, his hand tightening lightly on Nell's shoulder, communicating that he was not angry.
"Do you have information regarding the homicides?" asked Hotch, turning to Nell and interrupting Morgan before he could introduce the most interesting person in the room.
"She saw the shooter from two days ago" said Morgan, replying for Nell, trying to get the conversation back on a more positive track.
Hotch in turn gave him a look that spoke volumes. A witness report from two days back in the middle of all the chaos and paranoia did not sound promising.
"We'll take you to the sketch artist, it would be very helpful if you tried to remember as many details as possible." said he, not quite willing to dismiss the possibility just yet.
"That's just it Hotch" grinned Derek "she remembers everything about his face." and as his boss gave him a dubious look, Morgan rushed to clarify, making his second mistake. "She's something like Reid."
The reaction was instantaneous.
"I am nothing like him." spat Nell, giving poor Spencer the dirtiest of looks and bringing about stony silence.
As several team members opened their mouths to come to Spencer's defence, Morgan interrupted, wishing to kick himself for being so stupid. What was he, a newbie?
"I almost forgot" said he, and Nell glanced up at him, her features softening immediately. Derek was the only person capable of calming her in seconds.
"This is our technical analyst" said he, and Nell followed his line of sight to the second blonde of the group, whom she had not yet noticed, her brain jumping to action, rewinding every conversation she had with Derek on the topic. "Penelope Garcia"
Her face broke into one more infectious smile, and she offered her hand; exclaiming: "Oh my God, you're real!"
Penelope really did not know what to make of the girl, glancing once to her chocolate god, before offering a small smile to the whimsical girl " Um yeah, last time I checked. I'm Penelope."
Nell grinned at her, shaking her hand lightly "Oh I know. It's just the way Derek talks about you, I had half a mind to call him a liar."
Penelope did all she could to keep her mouth closed. What just happened? Derek, on the other hand, had a rather nasty feeling about the way this conversation was going. He tried to stop her, but Nell had already opened her mouth.
"And you look just like I imagined you would!" grinned the little troublemaker, and Penelope tensed, half-expecting some jibe on account of her weight. She also felt a little betrayed by her best friend. She had not expected him to be commenting on her physical flaws with other women, especially not women like the one standing before her now.
"You're absolutely beautiful!"
Penelope could have been knocked over by a breeze. And Derek had to get Nell out of that room. Now.
"Ok, that is enough from you" said he, moving to stand behind Nell and placing both hands on her shoulders. "Let's get you to the sketch artist."
Rossi noticed the movement as restraint, but also as a way of hiding, placing the girl between Penelope and himself, physically distancing himself from the statement.
"What did I say?" asked Nell in a lowered voice, craning her neck in an attempt to glance at Derek, genuinely confused.