AN: Happy Birthday to my cousin and AJ Cook! Fourth in the Meeting the Team series. First is Meeting Spencer Reid, followed by Meeting Penelope Garcia and Meeting Derek Morgan.

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, O.R. Melling's The Summer King or Edmund Spencer's The Faerie Queen. I do own Alice Catherine Jareau.

"That does it," said Jace. "I'm going to get you a dictionary for Christmas this year."

"Why?" Isabelle said.

"So you can look up 'fun.' I'm not sure you know what it means."

-Cassandra Clare, City of Ashes

June 14, 2004

I am curled up in my nest in Jenny's office, half hidden by the couch, re-reading O. R. Melling's The Summer King. It has taken a week, and the broken air-conditioning units in the FBI building, but Jenny finally managed to convince me to take of my sweater. I agreed with the stipulation that I would only take it off in her office when no one else from her team was around. I know that Jenny could have just ordered me to, and I would have complied but it's nice that my sister waited for me to agree. I think she has waited me out on more things than I will ever be aware of.

I'm not completely ashamed of the scars covering my back, legs and arms; I just hate the stares and the inevitable questions they invoke. Jenny tells me that my scars prove that I survived, that I am a survivor. I'm not sure if I believe her all the time, but hearing her say that usually makes me feel a little bit better.

The knock on Jenny's office door has me ducking for cover, completely hidden behind the couch before the voice asking the question of, "JJ, are you in there?" registers in my brain.

My first impression of the man who opens the door to my sister's office is 'now he looks like an FBI agent'. Derek still looks like a detective, and somehow this man seems to exude a different kind of air of confidence. Aaron Hotchner on the other hand, and this man must be Aaron Hotchner and not Jason Gideon, he looks like he belongs here in the FBI more than Penelope or Spence or even Jenny does.

Maybe I don't think Jenny belongs in the FBI because I have known my sister all my life and when I close my eyes to picture her, I still see a teenager in overalls, willing to carry me through the woods surrounding our house to find my lost Peter rabbit. Or even the barely adult Jenny, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, who taught me how to shoot and how to protect myself.

Mr. Hotchner sees me peeking out from behind the couch, oh why couldn't my hair be brown? I might have blended in. "Please stand up," he says calmly.

I am so nervous that I comply without thinking. I know that I am well trained; my body follows commands on autopilot. This is not just Jenny's doing, it is an ingrained as my instinctual reactions to the proximity of others.

Mr. Hotchner looks me up and down; his face is blank, "Are you Catherine Jareau?"

I nod once, trying to keep my face blank. He knows who I am. How does he know who I am? He can see my scars. Where is my sweater?

He smiles at me, "How old are you?"

"Th-thirteen," I answer quietly, cursing my stutter silently.

He closes the door behind him, keeping his hands in view, "Do you know where your sister went?"

Crap, he has blocked my only escape route. Not that it would have been much good, I would have had to have gotten past him to get out the door. There is no point in screaming, no one ever hears you. And I wouldn't be able to scream even if I wanted too. "She," I stop myself short, just where did Jenny say she was going? I bite my lip trying to remember.

"Catherine?" Mr. Hotchner is calling my name.

Oh, I do know where she went, "She went to find Jason Gideon."

Mr. Hotchner frowns, "You know that you can call all of us by our first names right? The team is family."

I nod, "Yes sir."

He chuckles, "Why don't you try it now? You do know what my name is, right?"

I nod.

"Catherine?" he prompts.

"Mr. Aaron Hotchner," I whisper.

He smiles softly at me, "So are you going to call me Aaron or not?"

I blush.

He frowns a little, "Would you mind coming out from behind the couch?"

I don't know what to do. Do I obey my sister's boss or wait for Jenny to come back and rescue me? Well, it's not like I have much of a choice; I can't just hope that Jenny will walk through the door at the right time. I'll have to play along and hope for the best, or an opportunity to escape if he tries something.

"Catherine?" Mr. Hotchner's voice breaks through my deliberations, and I realize that I haven't moved an inch.

I take a few deep breaths to calm myself before walking around to the side of the couch. I stop there, unsure about whether to continue or not.

"Toss me a pillow from the couch will you?"

The question startles me; I look up at Mr. Hotchner. What does he need a pillow for?

His lips twitch, "I want to sit on the floor and but tile and concrete is rather uncomfortable to sit on."

I blush at being so easily read. I try to blank my face further. I pick up a pillow and toss it across the room

He catches it and sits down, "Thank you Catherine."

Mr. Hotchner is much less threatening when he is sitting down. I pick up another pillow, this one for me and use it like a shield.

There is a sharp intake of breath when he sees my back. He coughs, "It's okay. Leave your sweater."

I wonder if he's been taking lessons from Jenny because I freeze at his words, my arm still extended.

He recovers quickly; his tone becomes firm and commanding, "Leave the sweater Catherine."

I withdraw my hand.

Mr. Hotchner gestures with his hand, "Come sit over here."

I obey. I turn around and walk towards him.

Soon we are facing each other, a mere five feet in between us. This is far too close for my liking. My arms are folded in front of me, I don't care that it is a defensive position and will make me easier to profile. It's bad enough that he has seen my back; I don't want him to see my arms as well.

Mr. Hotchner has taken off his suit jacket; it is currently lying on Jenny's desk. "I am not going to hurt you," he whispers.

I can't hold in my snort of incredulity.

Mr. Hotchner laughs and amends his previous statement, "I have no intention of hurting you."

I shrug uncomfortably. Where is Jenny?

Mr. Hotchner's hands are resting palm up on his knees. He's making all the right gestures; he must have taken lessons from someone. Someone talked to him, or he- "I won't ask you any questions unless you want me to."

It's a lie, it always is.

My face must show my suspicions because he chuckles, "I won't ask you about your back, or your arms."

I frown.

He continues, "Or your legs."

I shudder and whisper, "How did you know about my legs?"

Mr. Hotchner smiles sadly, "I just do."

"Who told you?" I demand.

He replies calmly, "No one told me."

I narrow my eyes at him.

He holds up both his hands in surrender, "I promise."

I nod and relax my posture, uncrossing my arms I am careful to keep the inside of my arms hidden.

Mr. Hotchner's lips twitch; he knows that my calm is just a façade. "I want to show you something. Is that okay?" his voice is relaxed but his posture isn't.

I nod, not sure what else I can do.

I cock my head in curiosity when Mr. Hotchner loosens his tie and I frown when he starts to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt, but I balk when he starts to unbutton his dress shirt. I stop breathing and start backing up on my bum across the floor; I don't even try to stand up until my back hits the couch.

His voice is like ice, "Stop."

I stop.

"Stay where you are," he instructs.

I don't move a muscle.

"Breathe," he orders.

I breathe.

"Come here," he commands.

I don't move.

"Catherine?" he asks.

I'm frozen in fear, I can't move.

He frowns, "I'm going to take off my shirt so that I can show you what I wanted to show you okay?"

I can't move.

Mr. Hotchner continues as if I had replied. He takes off his shirt and folds it up, places it on the corner of Jenny's desk. Then he does the same thing with his undershirt.

My breathing is speeding up; I'm almost at hyperventilation speed. Please don't let him reach for his belt buckle.

He doesn't, instead he turns around.

I am instantly ashamed by my previous thoughts when I see Aaron's back. It is entirely covered in long, shiny silver scars. It looks like mine.

"Who?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

Aaron huffs in amusement.

I look up, confused, "What?"

He turns around, "You ask whom. Not what, where, when, why?"

I shrug.

He tilts his head, "Would you care to explain?"

And there we go with the questions. But I suppose it is a fair question and has nothing to do with my scars. "I know what did it, it was a whip, probably a belt too, I can't quite tell from here if I'm seeing belt buckle marks. Where it happened doesn't matter. I have an idea as to when; you were a little kid, maybe a young teenager. The scars have stretched and faded a lot. Why doesn't matter because no child could ever do something so horrible as to deserve that," I look up to see Aaron's reaction to my statement.

His eyes are shiny in the dim light. He looks like he is going to cry.

Have I done something wrong? I duck my head and whisper, "I'm sorry."

His voice is rough, "You don't need to apologize Catherine. You haven't done anything wrong. As to whom, it was my father."

Inside I recoil in horror. How could a parent do that to their child, their own flesh and blood? Didn't Aaron have anyone to protect him? Outwardly, I take a step towards Aaron.

He watches me cautiously; his arms are by his sides, palms facing me.

Someone definitely talked to him. Even being horribly abused wouldn't translate into doing exactly what is needed to keep me calm because it's different for everyone. I hope it was Jenny, I hope that she finally got around to warning her team.

I take a few more cautious steps until I am barely two feet away from Aaron. I shiver before reaching out to touch him. My hand makes contact with his and I give it a light squeeze.

Aaron squeezes back.

I pull my hand away.

And he doesn't try to hold on.

I sit down on the couch and Aaron sits on the opposite end.

I ask the question that has been nagging at me, "How did you know my legs were scarred?"

He sighs, "No matter how large the child, the whip or belt will be too large and marks will be left on the buttocks and upper thighs. And the person holding the belt or whip will eventually get tired of constantly reopening the same wounds, that is when they will move on…" he trails off.

I look away, I am glad that he has stopped talking.

"I have a present for you," he says as he finishes buttoning up his dress shirt.

I frown.

Aaron's lips curl up in a small smile, "That was my original intention when I came to find you."

I'm still frowning when I ask, "Why?"

Aaron's lips twitch as he echoes me, "Why what?"

I am puzzled, "Why do you have a present for me?"

He smiles, "To welcome you to the family of course. You can think of it as an early birthday present if you want." Aaron pulls out a neatly wrapped package from his suit jacket pocket. He hands it to me.

I take it cautiously, not very many people have given me presents before, outside of my family I mean. Rafe does and sometimes I get small gifts from people at school. Beth- no I can't think about her right now. The present is wrapped in metallic blue paper. I wonder if Aaron had help picking out the colour. I unwrap the present slowly, trying not to tear the beautiful paper. When I see what is inside, my grin is so large, I feel like it's going to split my face in two, "Edmund Spencer's the Faerie Queen!"

Aaron chuckled at my exclamation.

I flip through it quickly, "It's in the original Middle English."

"Of course it is," he huffs good-naturedly, "The Spenserian rhyming scheme for his sonnets wouldn't work nearly as well in modern English now would they?"

"How?" I am shocked. Hardly anyone ever remembers that Edmund Spencer has his own way of writing sonnets.

Aaron smiles, "JJ told me that you love to read, this is a beautifully written piece." He looks away uncomfortably, "I also took a few English Literature classes in University."

I smile back at him.

"Do you want me to read it to you?" he looks so hopeful.

"I…" I trail off, unsure.

"Please?" he asks imploringly, "I heard that Reid-"

"Spencer," I whisper.

"Pardon?" he says.

I answer quietly, "His name is Spencer."

Aaron raises an eyebrow, "So you will call Reid, sorry, Spencer, by his first name but not me?"

I roll my eyes, "Of course not Aaron."

Aaron's smile lights up his sad eyes, "So you'll let me read then?"

I nod.

Aaron's voice is low and gravelly while he reads, "A Gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine, / Y cladd in mightie armes and silver shielde," (I.I 47-8).

Jenny opens the door and Aaron keeps reading to me, "Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine, / The cruell markes of many a bloudy fielde;" (I.I 49-50).

"Hotch?" questions my big sister, she sounds nervous.

Aaron stops reading and looks up, "It's okay JJ. We're okay."

"I'll come back later," Jenny turns to leave.

"No, stay," says Aaron, "I know we have a case so you need to say good-bye to your little sister."

I look up in concern when Aaron says Jenny's team has a case. I don't want my sister to leave.

"Ours," whispers Jenny.

"I'm sorry?" asks Aaron.

"It was something Derek said…" Jenny trails off.

Aaron raises an eyebrow.

Jen bites her bottom lip, "Catherine is the team's little sister. She is all of ours."

Aaron turns to me, "You don't mind?"

I shrug, "The team is family." I stick my tongue out at him.

Jenny laughs.

Aaron smiles, "Alright then." Aaron gets up off the couch, "It was nice to meet you Catherine. I will see you when we get back from the case." He turns to Jen; "Maybe we can have another team dinner soon."

Jenny smiles, "I think that is a good idea."

Aaron walks out of Jen's office, shutting the door tightly behind him.

"Jenny…" I whisper, getting up from the couch.

"Yes Princess?" she opens her arms to me.

I frown as I step into them, "I don't want you to go."

She hugs me tightly, "I know that you don't Kitty Cat. I don't want to leave you either."

I rest my head on her chest, "I'm going to miss you Jenny. Come back. Promise me that you won't die."

She kisses the top of my head, "I'm going to miss you too Kitty Cat and I promise that I will come back to you."

I step back and pull Jenny down onto the couch with me.

She pulls me into her lap, "Is your go bag packed?"

I nod.

"Good," she whispers.

I lay my head on Jenny's shoulder, "Can I call you to say good night?"

Her arms tighten around me, "How about I call Garcia and we can Skype instead?"

I nod.

Jenny runs her fingers through my hair, "Did you remember the candles Princess?"

I smile at my big sister, "Yes Jenny, I remembered candle holders and matches too."

"Good," Jenny speeds up, "Did you pack your homework, your books and essays? What about-"

I cut her off by covering her mouth with my hand, "Jenny."

She licks my palm.

I gag, "Eww! Jenny, that was gross! Why did you do that?"

She rolls her eyes and laughs at me, "It's not that gross, you do it all the time and you should know better than to cover my mouth with your hand."

I huff, "That's different and it's still gross Jenny, it never gets any less gross."

She chuckles.

There is a knock at the door and a call of, "JJ?"

"Are you ready?" she asks me, concerned.

I am suddenly terrified, this is really happening, "No."

Jenny kisses my forehead, "Well we're out of time. I love you Catherine. Be good for Garcia alright?"

I roll my eyes; "I love you Jenny and when am I not good?"

My big sister laughs and scoops me up off the couch into her arms and swings me around onto her back. We answer the door like that.

"Um hello," says a waving Spencer.

"Hi JJ. Hello Princess," Derek smiles, as he looks us up and down.

"'lo," I whisper back, blushing.

Jenny tilts her head, "Morgan would you mind grabbing my go bag from under my desk, I currently have an octopus on my back and she would like to come to the airstrip with us to say good-bye." Jenny squeezes my leg reassuringly, at my sharp intake of breath. She didn't tell me that I could go all the way to the plane.

"Gideon?" asks Derek.

I can hear the smirk in Jenny's voice when she says, "I cleared it already."

Derek chuckles.

Spencer asks, "She's family, why wouldn't she be allowed to come down to the plane? It's not like she's coming with us to-"

Derek interrupts him, "Later Reid."

Spencer nods.

Derek grabs Jenny's go-bag, "Ready to go?"

"Yes," says Jenny at the same time as I say, "No."

Derek laughs and shuts the door. "So you're an octopus?" he asks as we walk down the hall, "Do we all get octopus hugs before we leave?"

I turn red and hide my face in Jenny's hair.

Our story has three parts: a beginning, a middle, and an end.

And although this is the way all stories unfold,

I still can't believe that ours didn't go on forever.

- Nicholas Sparks

AN2: Thank you for reading, please review. The next story will be posted on July 25th 2012 and is entitled Meeting David Rossi.

AN3: Would anyone be interested in reading about the case the team is leaving on in this one-shot?