Chapter 1-

"You are aware that this woman is insane, yes?" A small tumbler of cognac was placed on the mahogany desk in front of Aaron Hotchner with a thud. This argument was becoming exasperating. Not because Aaron disagreed with his colleague, but because of the enormous moral and political error he was being swayed to make (with the help of Dave's fine liquor and smooth persuasion).

A sigh from David.

"Look, Aaron, I understand the drawbacks. There are always drawbacks, and there will always be red tape. But there is a gain to be made that has a great potential for outweighing the risks," said Rossi, pulling out his most calm and decisive tone of voice, "and anyways, we need a new profiler on this team. Believe me when I tell you, Aaron, I've been to the Academy several times in the last few weeks, and it doesn't get much better than what you're looking at in front of you."

Aaron glanced back down at the open file that he'd been handed three days previously by his adamant colleague. He exhaled sharply, as if he could forcefully breathe out the conflict that his sense of responsibility and righteousness were slowly but surely losing.

Name: Costigan, Marie Mara

DOB: 11-28-89

Sex: F

Nationality: American

Everything beyond "nationality" was questionable… even her place of birth was suspicious; Madeline Island, Wi. Aaron hadn't known that there was an island in Wisconsin. And who delivers a baby on an island that few to no people have ever heard of?

A sigh from Aaron.

"My every instinct that I have used to do this job effectively and preserve my life over the last twenty years is screaming that I should close this file and never open it again." The look on Aaron's face was determined and final. It would have fooled anyone but the man seated across from him behind his desk. That man, that thoughtless, reckless, sly SOB was smirking at him.

"But she's just too damn good." That smirk was almost a grin.

Another sigh from Aaron. This one, defeated. He copied Dave's conjecture.

"But she's just too damn good."

Chapter 2-

That had to be a joke. I glanced back at my "recent calls". That wasn't a joke. They'd called me. I'd answered. They'd set up an appointment. I'd conceded. I felt like I had just finished a tango of sorts. My brain was exhausted just trying to sound pleasant with that woman on the phone. Receptionists and secretaries always have that weird edge to their voices… like they know they're setting you up for your imminent doom, but they don't care. They're just sitting in that revolving chair with the Yoplait and the little plastic spoon… I dislike secretaries.

This particular bubble of falsified optimism served one Erin Strauss, a relatively high-powered executive for the… the um… I cant even think it.

To make matters worse, Satan's secretary had called for me. And somehow, I'd found myself in the parking garage of a federal agency preparing to walk willingly through the front door, and with a little visitor pass.

The kind of biting irony that balances out hilarity and shame to allow for placidity. That's what I am right now, placid. Unsure. Above me there are four 360 degree security cameras, just in my field of vision from behind the steering wheel of my parked car. I want to run, or better yet, walk out slowly, inconspicuously. My every instinct that has preserved life and limb for the last twenty-odd years is telling me that anyplace is safer than this. The subway tracks at 8:50 a.m. are safer than this.

But here I am, and I truly dislike a wasted drive to Virginia.

The walk into the building had been painful. Adding insult to injury, everyone had, and still is, staring at me. I stare back. People usually look away very quickly, and federal agents are no different. There are just too many of them looking at me at the same time. I cant hide my panic. Which adds to the list of sensations I generally make a point of avoiding. Its creeping up on me, seeping out of my pores like a phosphorescent glow. A fleeting question; can you see any fingerprints, feds?

I'm directed from the office of Erin Strauss to that of Aaron Hotchner. The two air-uns. I wonder if they're friends… not likely. You don't make friends in the Feder- I still cant think it. A quick glance out into the pen beneath the raised catwalk on which the offices of "superiors" are positioned- symbolically so- allows for a brief but helpful assessment of the Unit Chief; he has comrades.

There are two faces in a sea of scuttling bodies turned my way when I approach the directed office door. One is dark and determined-looking, with pointed, suspicious eyes. The other is pale, soft and curious, inquisitive like a child. The two sets of brown eyes meet one another's for a brief glance, the result a question unanswered. Neither recognizes me from any place in the Bureau. No shit. Any other day, I wouldn't be caught dead here. Apparently today is not any other day, because I've just knocked on the plywood door of the faces' fearless leader, and he has just answered it, stern-faced and civilly unwelcoming.

I sit in the chair he gestures me into. Because there are so many chairs in front of his desk I couldn't decide for myself. Aaron Hotchner smoothes the front of his suit jacket before looking up from the file in front of him to make brief, wary eye contact. The trust and eagerness for my presence on his team are dripping off this whole encounter.

"Ms. Costigan, to be perfectly honest with you I don't know where to begin."

Its almost as if he's getting ready to read a list of charges.

"Then please, allow me."

He looks back up at me like I'm insane, an eyebrow crooked.

"I don't know why this job was offered to me, but I don't want it. I've refused offers from Erin Strauss more than once."

He looks at me for only a moment. He's not going to play games. Good.

"Then why are you here?" Like he didn't invite me…

"Innate curiosity. The ultimate downfall of a career criminal. Why did you have me contacted for an interview?" I demanded, not missing a beat. Stoneface hides his surprise well.

"We have a position open in the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and you were highly recommended by both my colleagues and my superiors." He was being honest… somewhat.

"So clearly this is not a choice you would have made without some healthy persuasion."

"Most definitely not. You are not an agent, but you have a file in this agency, and a rather thick one at that. I suppose you could call it a matter of convenience." That might have been a smirk on his lips.

"You know what's funny is I was just thinking about painful irony while walking in here this morning." I lightened my tone somewhat, and that could-be-a-smirk became a certain smirk. He stopped for a moment to take a deep breath. He's going to cut down to business.

"Ms. Costigan this position is temporary, it is probationary, and it will be heavily scrutinized. You are wanted by this agency, in both contexts, and you are here now. Which tells me that you are either in desperate need of a job or this holds some interest for you."

"I cant guarantee that I'm going to earn your trust. Or the converse of that statement, I can be fairly certain that I will earn your distrust." Its my favorite experimental way of stating things, without any emphasis. He looks taken aback yet again, and the thick dark brow over his eyes furrows impossibly deeper. He looks like he's just had an epiphany. Maybe I'm growing on him already.

"You'll retain a position as a Consultant until you are evaluated and join the Academy, or you do something obscenely unacceptable by FBI standards, whichever comes first." Standing from his seat, he offers me his hand. I follow suit and smile stupidly, partly because of the smugness I feel being handed this job, and partly because this is probably the best first impression I've ever made on a member of law enforcement.

Chapter 3-

Reid POV:

"Where did this come from? I thought we weren't going to replace Prentiss?" Morgan was being demanding about this, and he had a right to be. It had been agreed among the remaining members of the BAU that they would make no immediate efforts to replace their teammate, as a sort of honorary farewell to the woman who had left to start a new chapter.

"I understand if this is frustrating, but we've been through this before. The Bureau doesn't like to make accommodations, and this is no exception. Chief Strauss made it very clear that we are going to be receiving a new member of this team, and we are going to comply. I have hired her temporarily, as a Consulting profiler, and she will most likely remain one. This change is only temporary." Hotch's voice had become stiff and reluctant. It didn't require much profiling to notice that he wasn't happy with this arrangement.

Reid had to wonder how the team was supposed to accept this change if their leader couldn't.

"Hotch, is there something you're not telling us?" Morgan inquired, taking the question right out of Reid's head. Their boss paused for a few moments. He was formulating, calculating. As if he needed to, or could lie to us. He glanced over to Rossi, who spoke up clearly to prevent damage by the disapproving Unit Chief.

"She's a little unorthodox," he began, contemplating… "there wont be any problems-" Hotch let out a small whimper, his hand covering his forehead.

Rossi continued as if the interruption hadn't occurred, trying to be reassuring. "But like I said, this woman is not traditional FBI-spun, a lot of exceptions have been made, more will follow. What's important is that she has incredible potential as a profiler, and will bring something to this team that is not easy to find, especially around the Academy these days. Remember, this is temporary, so give her a chance, everybody, okay?" Rossi finished his speech with a little upbeat to the last request, effectively stirring a hopeful attitude in everyone… except Hotch. Reid paid attention to his boss's strange loss of words and recurring winces, like he was seriously regretting this decision. To say that they were collectively tense would be an understatement.

Reid tried his best to focus on paperwork for the next half hour, but the noise in the bull pen was unusually distracting. His foot tapped an erratic rhythm. A frame kept replaying in his head from the morning before; an unseemly tall, thin, pale woman in her early twenties, dressed unprofessionally, glancing curiously out towards him from behind a thick curtain of long, curly black hair. The woman walked lightly over the catwalk, stepping up to Hotch's office door, and knocking out a funny little dun dun dun-dun dun, dun dun. This was their new team member. This was who had been hired to replace Emily… after they had mutually agreed to wait a good amount of time before making such a prodigious attempt. And their boss had gone ahead and hired a new agent. Not even an agent. Without telling them.

He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. The hurt felt childish to him, but he couldn't help it. He felt slightly betrayed. Even JJ had seemed upset by the news, and she was usually quite diplomatic, in other words uninvolved with disagreements amongst team members. This was more than offensive. This was mildly ridiculous.

But they were a team. Reid felt the need to respect Hotch and Rossi for their decisions. Relying on their authority was an easy way to not have to shoulder the blame for any mishaps, he noted with a twinge of self-disgust. With his mind instantaneously made up, and survival instincts of a non-Alpha aside, Reid pulled himself out of contemplative thought (with some effort), and turned his focus back to paperwork. That was, until she walked up to his desk.

Marie POV:

I have the vague impression that I'm a little late to my first morning at a new job. Not that it matters to me. In fact, it's probably a good thing that I'm not setting up any false hope of professionalism with my new teammates, just starting the day like I would any other. That meant late. And yawning. And scruffy, to put it kindly. Looking around the pen, I pick out an empty desk that is obviously the one I'll be using. Still, I need an excuse for polite small talk.

Of the two men from yesterday, it is obvious which is less threatening. I walk quietly up to the front of his desk. He is immersed in paperwork, a thick mess of auburn hair obscuring most of his face as he leans closely into the files before him. I'm almost positive this guy needs either three weeks vacation or a coffee refill. He doesn't notice my approaching form until I'm directly in front of him. He looks up.

The harsh fluorescents in the office seem to dim all around his face as my vision tunnels to just him. He's got the most startlingly wide and honest eyes I've ever seen on a man. He is surprised by me, and doesn't look away from my own eyes. The first instinctual feeling I have is to touch his face. I can picture it, reaching out, ghosting the pale skin covering his sharp cheekbones. That would be weird.

"Is this my desk?" I ask quietly, without breaking eye contact, and tilting my head slightly in its direction. He nods, swallowing noticeably. Beautiful eyes…

"Hello?" I crane my neck around to see the other agent standing only a few feet behind me. How did I not sense him there? That wasn't right…

"Hi." I respond jovially. I turn halfway towards him, careful not to turn my attention entirely from the younger man. "Marie Costigan." I hold out my hand for him to shake, and he does so somewhat reluctantly, trying to intimidate me with a strong grip and a judgmental glare. I smile widely at him. He cracks one back. "Derek Morgan." Test one, passed successfully. Tilting my head back down to the other man, I wait patiently for him to come up with his own name.

"I'm Spencer Reid." His voice is low and a little throaty. Oh God…

I don't miss Derek Morgan's raised eyebrows as our interaction continues. I cant help but to smile at Spencer, genuinely. His polite shyness is painfully sexy. I want to touch him. But his friend and colleague is standing directly behind me, watching him carefully for a response. It occurs to me that I might come off as a little forward, I might be causing his apparent discomfort. But he never breaks eye contact. He smiles slightly back, adding a beautiful curve to his lips. Good. I am forward.