Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Criminal Minds.
Notes: Hello there! This happens to be my first story here on fanfiction, so we'll see how it goes. I've written a couple chapters of this so far, but I want to get a few more done before I start posting chapters regularly. Reviews and constructive criticism would be great seeing as I still have a long way to go before I fully understand everything here. This chapter here is a good deal shorter than the other chapters I have written, but I just wanted a little introduction to the story. Also, this story will be written in first person. I had first intended to write in third person, but after writing the first few paragraphs of this chapter I found that it just worked better to do it in first person. There will be times when I will switch to third person, but the story will be in first primarily, and you will always be notified of these times. And please, if you find any errors don't hesitate to tell me, I want to make this an enjoyable and non-confusing story for people to read.
Full Summary: To say it was a dream come true for Marie Fischer would be an understatement. After getting accepted at such a young age for a job in the BAU she is more than willing to pack up and move to Virginia, but everything good comes with a price. So just how much is she willing to pay? ReidxOCxHotch. The ReidxOC pairing is more likely going to be the main pairing in this story with a little bit of HotchxOC on the side, but we'll have to see how it goes.
"A book must be an ice-axe to break the seas frozen inside our soul." -Franz Kafka
-Chapter 1-
It Starts at the Beginning
When I was a child my mother would read me stories to put me to sleep at night. She loved books. She always told me it was because they gave her unimaginable powers. It was her decision if the characters went on their adventures, if they got their happy endings, if they lived or died. If she didn't want something to happen she could control that. She could shut the book, skip a chapter, or even make up her own ending. It was her place to play God, and she loved it. And so I loved it as well.
My mother never read me the fairy tales people are told as children. I never heard about the struggles of Cinderella, the pure love that blossomed between Belle and the Beast, and even Hansel and Gretle were not to my mother's tastes. She said they were unrealistic. She never was one for the perfect happy ending. She insisted that life wasn't about overcoming one or two obstacles and then living the rest of your days happily ever after. Life is full of constant obstacles and battles to overcome, and we must continue to fight and win in order to maintain our happiness. She told me that more times than I can remember.
No, instead she chose to read me what she deemed to be "realistic"; H.P. Lovecraft, Mark Twain, Homer, and Aldous Huxley, to name a few. Now that I look back I have to laugh, The Call of Cthulhu and the Iliad aren't exactly nonfiction. Maybe she just liked tragedies and that was her way of trying to come up with an explanation to shut me up, but somewhere in that little brain of mine it made sense. Unlike my mother, however, I have always had a love for happier endings. I don't mind tragedy, so long as I can end with just a little bit of hope.
As I got older I kept that love of stories and adventures, falling in love with Sherlock Holmes and other novels about great detectives. They had enough troubles and tragedy to be to my mother's liking, but when the creeps were locked up behind bars I would get the happy ending I always wanted.
Maybe that's what first brought on the idea of going into Criminal Justice. Well, that and the fact that my father had a career in it as well. I loved the thought that I could help people to overcome some of the hardest things to deal with in life in order to bring them a little bit of happiness. My mother agreed. She was overjoyed when I first came to her with the idea.
My father, on the other hand, was not so thrilled. He's always been overprotective of me and my siblings, so it's no wonder why he would oppose. He didn't want to see me doing what he did out on the field. I don't blame him really, what man would want his oldest daughter to be dealing with murderers and death on a day-to-day basis? With my mother on my side, however, it didn't take long to wear him down.
And so now here I stand, on a cool Thursday morning in October, before the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit building in Quantico, Virginia. A large box cradled in my arms in front of me and a packet of papers gripped tightly beneath that in my right hand.
Taking a deep breath I put on the best smile I could muster with the nervous feeling I had in the pit of my stomach and entered.
I can't say I was surprised when I was stopped by an intimidating man the second I stepped inside. He had his badge on display on his breast, although I didn't bother to look at it closely, and was in uniform. He asked me what the "nature of my visit" was. My smile faltered at this slightly, but I recovered quickly.
"My name's Marianna Fischer. I was assigned here recently, to the BAU. I'm supposed to report to-" I shifted the box's weight to my left arm as I flipped open the file in my hands. "-to a Mr. Aaron Hotchner?" I glanced up at him while biting my lower lip, a nervous habit I've had all my life. He stared at me for a long while, as if he was trying to decide if I was telling the truth or not.
After a sufficiently awkward silence he glanced at the file I held. "Those are your papers?" He asked, holding out a hand. I gladly gave them to him, bringing the weight back off my aching left arm and using both hands to hold it up once again. The man in front of me, a security guard of some sorts I assumed, flipped open my file. His eyes glanced over it for a while before nodding. "Alright, Ms. Fischer, please follow me." I let out a sigh of relief as he turned and began walking towards an elevator a little ways off. I was even more happy, though, when I realized he had decided to carry my papers himself.
One less thing to carry. Thank God.
He stepped into the elevator and turned to make sure I followed. I stepped inside and let out a shaky breath. I've never really been a fan of elevators.
It's better than carrying this box up who knows how many flights of stairs.
I reassured myself as the guard pushed both the button for the floor we wanted and the button to close the door. The first few seconds of the ride were met with another wonderfully awkward silence. I was getting so used to it that I had to stop myself from jumping when the guard spoke.
"So how long've you been in the crime-catching business?" Idle conversation, but I'll take what I can get.
"Only a year. I went and got my degree in Psychology and Criminal Justice, after that I was accepted into the academy. Once I finished there I was able to get my first real job." I told him. He looked at me skeptically.
"You've only been working for a year and you've already made it to the BAU? You must be pretty good." He said with a short chuckle. I tried to hide my wince with a laugh of my own.
Yeah, "good". That and I have a father who insisted on pulling some strings.
I can't say I was proud of what my father had done. There were plenty of people who had worked much harder and much longer than I have that were denied this job. It made me feel guilty, of course, but it wasn't an opportunity that I was going to pass up either. It's likely that I wouldn't ever get this sort of a chance again, and I wanted to show my father that I could do this and that he didn't need to worry about me.
"What about you?" I asked him, trying to keep the conversation alive. He seemed to think about it for a moment before opening his mouth.
"I've been working here for three years, but I've been in the business for at least six years now." I nodded at this, giving him a smile.
"You like working here?" At this he let out another chuckle. This one sounded a little less tense and forced than the last.
"It puts food on the table." I glanced at him. The grin on his face was enough to release some of my built-up tension and nerves. I relaxed a little, but had run out of things to say.
Thankfully the ride up didn't last much longer. When the elevator stopped and the door opened, however, the nervous feeling that had almost left returned full-force.
"Here we are." The guard said next to me. I stepped out and turned to wait for him to follow, only to see him handing me my file. "I've gotta get back to the front door. Just go up the stairs there-" He gestured to the stairs. "-and it's the first door right there." He nodded at the door.
I bit my lower lip and turned my attention back from the door to him. He set the papers on top of the box and kept his hand outstretched. I shifted the weight of the box again to my left arm and took his hand without too much trouble. "It was nice talking to you, Marianna." He smiled.
"Please, call me Marie, and it was nice talking to you too. Thank you." I said, shaking his hand before cradling the box once again.
He nodded and took a step back into the elevator, smoothing out his uniform before pushing the button to close the door once again. I waited for it to shut before turning around.