Well. It's three years later, I'm finally returning to the Agent Fatal and when I reread everything I had written along with the feedback I received on the series, I had the crazy idea to rewrite, expand, and update the series. I took the constructive criticism, super awesome loving and reviews y'all gave me and I hope you like the new beginning to how our favorite couple got together! Don't worry, there won't be a lot of deviation from the original plot line but I wanted a slower progression and clearer character development to come forward. I hope you enjoy the newest chapter and I will be updating the chapters as they come, so please be patient. Enjoy!

It is snowing on December 8th when the Federal Bureau of Investigation's elite unit, the BAU, touches down on the runway at Minot Air Force Base in North Dakota. Fat snowflakes twirl and kiss the plane's windows as they fall and partially obscure Spencer Reid's view of the darkened military grounds outside. As the plane taxies toward its hangar, the agent notes the silence that has consumed his team members. There isn't the usual camaraderie this time around. No rush to exit the plane.

Someone sighs behind him though Spencer knows it isn't the typical sigh of relief or satisfaction over a job well done. No, this is a sigh made by someone whose optimism has long faded over the years in the Bureau. This is a sigh that signals grief, exhaustion and, above all else, regret for delivering an incorrect profile that resulted in seventeen lives lost to a psychopathic ATF agent with a penchant for explosives.

Spencer feels the uneasy glances exchanged among the team. Glances that all tell the same story. We can't blame ourselves. We couldn't have prevented this.

Aaron Hotchner is the first to stand as the walkway lights came on, clearing his throat and buttoning his suit jacket. Nothing is said, however, because there isn't anything more they can say. Everyone has argued, everyone has said his or her piece. They know the drill now: put what happened in Colorado behind you. Focus on the case ahead.

"There were only a few rooms vacant at the hotel when Garcia called ahead. We'll be sharing as of now."

"No room available at the inn for the outsiders," Rossi intones as he stands too. "Dare I say how appropriate? "

"Prentiss and JJ, you'll be in 304. Rossi and Morgan, 306. Reid, you'll be with me. 305."

At this, Spencer finally looks up at his Unit Chief, brows strung together in surprise. He and Derek always room together should the situation arise. Aaron avoids meeting the younger agent's gaze as they exit their jet.

It isn't much clearer until Aaron has closed the door to their cramped hotel room, breathing out heavily and leaning his forearm against the wood.

"I chose you because I knew you wouldn't judge me. Blame me." It isn't whispered, but it isn't projected either.

Spencer turns from placing his messenger bag on the side of the bed closest to the window. The agent and profiler within him wish to say you were wrong. I told you so. Instead, the young man, who recognizes that his compassion and guilt are often times more dominant, returns silently to the door and places a hand on the damp cashmere of Aaron's outer coat.

The Unit Chief stiffens but does not shake off Spencer's touch.

"We couldn't have known Steven Norman was suffering from Borderline Personality Disorder. That's on ATF. Not on us. Reviewing their personnel files...there was nothing signifying a psychotic break. Nothing to predict the outcome." Spencer swallows, waiting.

He knows how Aaron operates. Knows the way his mind churns out thoughts. The Unit Chief never allows any criminal to justify their actions. A man locked as tight as he is has little patience for excuses and universally condemns crime.

To Aaron Hotchner, a black and white world is what keeps him sleeping at night. To the feared Unit Chief, the scales of justice are his motivator and Spencer recognizes that the only way to calm his mind is to appeal to the logistics. No sign was given that Norman may have been unstable. No tests, no polygraphs, and ATF had stonewalled the Bureau in typical fashion from obtaining a closer look at their Colorado Springs-based EOD team once agents had begun to disappear.

When Aaron finally releases his grip on the door and faces the genius, he feels the deep creases of his frown release somewhat. Spencer has on that small smile where his eyes lift in hope, in expectation of what is going to happen next. That small smile where his lips are sewn together as if to say there's no fault in this.

Spencer studies his superior too. Studies the way Aaron's eyes darken under a prominent brow. He follows the pronounced lines of Aaron's mouth, drawn down into a scowl as if it never learned how to smile. His eyes trace the smattering of growth under the squared off jaw and return to the pair of chocolate brown eyes so narrowed they appear black.

A moment passes before Spencer hears himself blurt, "You have attached earlobes. Did you know attached and unattached lobes are often used to illustrate basic genetics? In biology courses, students are taught that a single gene controls these physical traits, when in fact the occurrence is simply a myth."

He breaks off, flushing somewhat at the hint of a smile tugging Aaron's lips up. It's hardly a millimeter of movement but the man's stormy expression has faded, replaced with a look that is somewhere between caution and confusion. It unnerves the genius, for it's entirely unfamiliar to see uncertainty in his superior's eyes.

"Sorry..." he tries.

"Don't be," Aaron finally says, the stoic mask returning to rest on his hardened features. "I wouldn't want you to be anyone else but yourself."

It takes a few moments for Spencer's mouth to cease opening and closing as he grapples with uttering any sort of response because he knows it is not in Aaron's nature to bestow insincere compliments and before he can come up with the words at all, Aaron moves past him and deposits his overnight bag on the bed.

No words are spoken as the two men unpack, take turns in the bathroom and eventually climb into the small bed. The dim lighting in the room turns black as Aaron switches off the lamp and the hammering in Spencer's chest refuses to calm itself as his chief lays down, their shoulders pressed together.

"Thank you." The younger agent whispers to the room, watching fingers of light pass over the ceiling from cars along the road.

Aaron remains quiet as he presses his lips together to suppress a grin and only when he feels the agent's slender body gently bow in toward him, does he breathe out.

He wonders how he became so fatigued and it would be easy to charge the day's events with the drowsiness but he knows he would be lying.

He wonders why, when his eyes shut and his mind is put to rest, it is Spencer Reid's small smile and wide amber gaze that cause him to finally break out into a smile.

As always, feedback is very much appreciated! If you liked this new chapter and the way the characters are written, please say so. If you have any ideas on what you would like to see in this new edition, please tell me! I wouldn't have had the encouragement to take on this new project without you guys. I hope you keep loving this series!

-Connet