BEGINNING NOTE/WARNING: There is little to no romance in the beginning of this story; eventual LxOC; not OC-centric, instead this story is third person omniscient, following in the footsteps of Criminal Minds (and Death Note as well, I suppose); explores human behavior, meaning this story will have scenes heavy with thought, emotion, and proposing and (hopefully) occasionally answering the ever-present question why. This story is not for readers who have a short attention span, or are bored easily.

This story is for mature audiences only. Contains graphic content and foul language.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Criminal Minds, or Death Note. The events, cases, and the original character written of within are fictious; therefore, any similarities perceived by the reader are hereby discredited.

Prologue

RYTHMICALLY, THE blond drummed the fingers of her right hand against her thigh; her left hand was taking lead of driving: she drove and wrote with her left hand, using her right as the dominant for every other task. She was breathing heavily, heart fiercely rapping against her ribs, hands trembling ever so slightly. The last symptom of her current physical condition might have been, in all honesty, a hallmark sign of her sleep-deprived body. She did not concentrate on this, however: she forced all of her attention on containing the thunderhead roiling in her abdomen.

She took in a deep breath to calm herself, held it for eight seconds... then let it out for another count of eight seconds. The breath was shaky, unsettling. Closing her eyes for a moment, she silently chastised herself for her lack of self-control. An enormous blare sounded and her eyes snapped open. She saw that she was in the middle of McCarthy's intersection with Fuller Road, about to be T-boned by a car that had the right-of-way. She slammed on the breaks, throwing her chest into the steering wheel, but did not lose control (no, she could not lose control again); yanking the wheel to the right, she narrowly skirted against the side of the taxi before her.

"The hell's your prob'm, lady?" The taxi driver threw a rude hand gesture her way, then sped off East, down Fuller ahead of her. In the back of the car, she saw the flash of a mortified woman. She concentrated on her, her eyes wide like saucers, her face distorted in terror. She could hear the woman panting, feel it against her very own neck. She- was- her. More blaring: honking from behind her. She wretched the wheel around and continued onward, trailing far behind the angry taxi.

"Damn it, Harlem." A coarse whisper escaped her chapped lips; she began picking at the skin of her right thumb with the corresponding index finger. She had seen the look on that woman's face so many times in the last twelve days... it was in the mirror, painted behind her eye lids, and danced in her dreams with an inappropriate grace.

The rest of her drive was an uneventful ten minutes. Turning into a parking lot teeming with navy blue SUVs, she reached her destination: FBI Headquarters, Quantico, Virginia. Parking was easy enough to find. Making her way up to the office, however, was another beast altogether.

She picked at her fingers with more intensity, feeling the burn that meant she had peeled back enough skin to cause bleeding. She swallowed the thick lump in her throat as painlessly as she could, which was not much. This was normal. This she was able to deal with. What she was about to do... It contradicted her entire personality and what she stood for and vowed to do.

Nap-nap, nap-nap. She jolted. Looking up with wide eyes, she saw Spencer Reid had knocked on the window of her car. He obviously saw the terror strewn across her facial features, because he raised his hands and took a step back.

"Hey, Jordan," he began in his normal timid approach, muffled and barely heard through the thick glass, "you okay?" His eyebrows knitted together as he analyzed her. She gritted her teeth and nodded her head fervently. Spencer stepped back as she pulled the keys from the ignition and opened the door. She stepped outside, squinting at the sting of raw light. The door clumpedshut behind her.

"Are you sure?" He queried, examining further. She locked eyes with his, staring deep into the liquid, youthful brown orbs. She held it for a second too long, just one negligible second, then looked up at the building absently. She hoped he understood the meaning. She then let her eyes dart to the water in the East. Please see it, she thought. Please understand... please don't make me say it... please, Spencer... "Jordan..." His voice was low.

Jordan threw her arms around him, clenching her wrists behind his neck. She stood on her toes to compensate the difference in height. Slowly, he reciprocated the gesture. Thank you...

"I, uh-" Jordan began with a quick sniffle, pulling away- "I'm going to talk to Hotch. The... the thing is... I can't... I need... Spencer..." Why is this so hard? She closed her eyes again, attempting to control herself and her emotions.

"Jordan, are you-"

"Yes," her voice broke. Jordan looked up at him, taking in his features. A slight breeze caught in his sandy locks, ensnaring itself and battling its way out. His jaw clenched, straining the muscles and arteries in his neck, and he pursed his lips.

"Please, don't," was his only quiet reply.

Spencer Reid was her best friend; her one tie to sanity; the only thing that mattered in life to her- the only thing that should have mattered to anyone, anywhere, ever. And she was leaving him. Was this harm to herself or him? Both? Neither? Spencer looked at Jordan with such devastation that her throat began to throb, and she hiccuped. "I- can't- take it anymore," she moaned with aching slowness. Spencer opened his arms instinctively, allowing Jordan to bury her face in his ready chest. He rested his cheek on top of her messy blond hair, so similar to his own. She had not bothered to brush it that morning.

In the quickest moment Jordan had ever experienced in her life, she thought she heard him cough back a sob. But these thoughts were dispelled by her own, very real, sobs.

0o-o-o-o0o-o-o-o0

Jordan's heart pounded fiercely in her chest as the elevator ascended. She asked Spencer to allow her to go through with this endeavor alone. He agreed, by all means reluctantly, but he agreed nonetheless. He knew how much this meant to her, even though it broke his heart.

Jordan's chest grew colder and colder, tighter and tighter, and with each passing second she thought she was going to suffocate.

Ping.

The doors crawled open.

"Oh, Harlem! Morning, girlie," Penelope Garcia smiled at her dear friend as she stepped into the lobby. Jordan attempted to return the smile, failed, then awkwardly hobbled off. It was a slow walk, but one that took the energy and life straight out of her soul. Each step felt like she carried a decade around her legs, each one aging her, sucking away her life and vigor- if she had any left, that is. The pounding of her invisible time-shackles could be heard with a rumbling vibration in her ears, and felt with the powerful slam of a sledgehammer in her chest. Knees wobbling, Jordan cautiously made her way across the sudden vastness of the office center. "H-Harlem?" Garcia anxiously called from behind. Jordan felt Garcia's worried eyes burning into her back; she could feel the very marrow within her bones blazing.

"Hey, Harlem. Where's Reid?" Derek Morgan stepped in front of her, intercepting her path to Hotch's office. Jordan's breath caught in her throat. He had to make this so much harder for her; unintentionally, yes, but still all the more difficult. She could not meet his eyes. "Harlem? What's the matter, kid?" Jordan tried to bring her eyes to at least his chin, but could not. And even though their eyes never met, he could see the glisten of diamonds behind her eyes.

"Do you need to talk?" He threw a handful of files onto his already file-strewn desk. "I'm free, Harlem. You hear me? If you need to ta-"

"Morgan, stop." She felt her blink rate speed up. Shutting her eyes, she took a deep breath.

"What's bugging you, kid?" Derek's phone beeped. He pulled it out. Simply because he was worried about Jordan's well-being, he was going to forsake the call of duty. However, the message must have been about her, Jordan rightly assumed, for he took a double-take, then let her by. "Will you talk to me later?" His voice was low, as was his head. She was finally able to make eye contact.

"I'm not sure." Her voice was weak and even quieter.

"That's no answer, Jordan. You're scarin' me, kid. Talk to me. Tell me you're gonna' explain to me what's eatin' you later." Jordan sniffed. His kindness touched her heart, as it always had and always would. She sniffed again. I'll miss you so much, Morgan. She nodded weakly. "That's my girl-" he gripped her shoulder and forced eye contact upon her- "you're strong, you're brave -one of the bravest people I've ever known-, whatever's at you... you can handle it... hear me, Jordan?" She nodded,

Derek patting her head, like the little girl- little sister, he had always treated her as.

"Thank you, Morgan..." And he let her by. Out of the corner of her eye, Jordan saw JJ, Penelope, and Emily eying her worriedly. She ignored them and walked up the steps to the line of doors. And as she crossed the threshold bearing at least a dozen doors, she saw Spencer with his hand in his pocket, fumbling with... a phone, she decided.

With great anxiety, she opened the door to Aaron Hotchner's office and shut it quietly behind her.

For some reason, the click of the door set something off inside her. It was as if she knew that it was going to be alright. Maybe it was the fact that the cloud of looming insanity that she was so sure just days ago was going to swallow her whole, had finally dissipated. But whatever it actually might have been, did not matter. She had made a decision, something she hadn't been able to do her entire life. But she had finally made one.

Too little, too late... who would ever know?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hmm... It's a start, right? :)

For the time being, this story will be CM-centric, with little to no romance. I just love Criminal Minds so much, I had to write a fic with it. :) Please enjoy this story. :)

I will try to keep the characters as in-character as I possibly can. But seeing as how there is an OC, I'll have to recreate the team's dynamic. Only just tweak it a little, though. ;)

Any MorganxReids out there? c:

And to perk the interest of you all some more, care to guess what our little OC Jordan was up to in Hotch's office? And what were Spencer and Jordan talking about? Find out later in the story at some undecided and most likely completely random point! o:

BONUS: No, I will not tell you when this story is over. No, I will not tell you which chapter contains the explanation of the prologue. No, Santa Claus does not exist. I'm sorry, but... -shakes head- :s

Review!

Merci~ \m/