Etude-from French, meaning "to study," an instrumental musical composition designed to provide practice material to perfect a musical technique
My mother's arms wrapped around me, holding me close. Just as I felt her pull back only to lean forward to kiss me on my forehead, my eyes popped open into the growing dawn light. Depsite the pain I still felt in my mother's absence, I felt that she was still sending me off to my first day of school with her blessing.
I tossed my clothes in the hamper and hopped in the shower, my fingers brushing against the still visible and raised scars on my shoulder, torso, and arm. Each one was approximately the same size and still a stark red color against my skin. But they were healed.
After toweling my short, curly hair dry, I got dressed in the clothes I had laid out the night before: dark wash jeans, a dark green tank top, and an ivory short-sleeved, cropped sweater. The scar on my collar bone peeked out from the top and the scar on my arm was fully visible. Last month, I would have chosen something else to wear. But I was done with hiding the visible traces of what had happened to me. It was a new stage of my life.
I set out breakfast for Hannah and then made coffee for myself. I brewed fresh coffee in my new French press—moving in present from Reid—and spooned Greek yogurt, sliced strawberries, and homemade granola into a bowl. I was half way done and pouring a cup of coffee when I heard a knock on my door and then the deadbolt unlock.
I poured a second cup of coffee, adding only sugar, for the only other person with a key to my apartment who was likely to show up before seven in the morning.
Michael accepted the cup from me without a word, taking a long gulp before he nodded his thanks. Micael was not a morning person.
"Wish I had time to make omelets, but I've got to get going," I apologized. "Megan warned me that the commuter spots go fast."
Michael nodded easily. "Figured," he said. "But I wanted to wish you luck."
"You're sweet," I told him and bumped his shoulder. "Dinner later?"
"You're getting abducted by Tasha after you get off at the book store today," Michael warned me. "Me and Mr. FBI are meeting you guys at the café and then we're headed out to dinner."
"Who came up with that bright idea?" I demanded. "And why am I only hearing about it now?"
"Tasha wanted it to be a surprise," Michael explained. "But I figured you'd want the heads up."
"Thanks," I said as I rolled my eyes.
Michael smirked. "Go finish primping. I'll see you later."
Yep, sometimes I didn't know what I would do without my best friend. But he had a point and I needed to finish getting ready. My hair was almost dry so I just clipped it back, used a smattering of eyeliner and lipstick, and slipped on the pearl earrings I had from Tasha from my last birthday. I gathered my messenger bag, already loaded with my textbooks, grabbed my flute case, and slipped into brown sandals. Once I activated my security system and locked the door, I was headed out for my first day of classes for my freshman year.
Between orientation a few weeks ago and today, I had already been back to Strader University to purchase my books and to visit with Megan Reeves, a former federal agent who worked as a campus counselor. Reid had set me with with Megan to have an ally on campus and to work through my lingering issues after being attached by the serial killer known as the Boston Reaper. Reid was right in more ways than one and I had come to like and trust Megan quickly.
Early birds like me were already grabbing the best parking spaces. I located the fine arts building and found the classroom for the Musicianship class that all music majors and minors had to take. Once my bag and flute case were placed by my feet, I pulled out my phone and laughed at the text messages.
Garcia: Happy first day of classes chickadee! So proud of you darling!
Reid: Good luck today, you'll be great.
And most suprising was the last one.
Hotch: I hope your first week goes well.
I hadn't heard from Hotch in awhile—he'd been distancing himself on purpose to keep me safe from a further attack from George Foyet (aka: the Boston Reaper). Even knowing the reasons why, it still stung. But I smiled more reading his text than the other two. Not that I didn't love my fairy godmother and geeky, pseudo-brother, but I appreciated every bit I could get from Hotch.
Other students began filtering in, some already chatting with each other. I felt safe enough people watching at first; time enough to jump in later. At eight on the dot, my advisor and orchestra teacher, Dr. Richard Ripley, walked in.
"Morning everyone. I am Doctor Richard Ripley, I am the orchestra director here at Strader, I teach music theory, composition, private lessons for brass instruments, and I drew the short straw for teaching this class for the semester."
I smirked as others laughed outright. Even from my first meeting with Ripley, I knew I liked him.
"Now, you can call me Ripley until you get comfortable enough to call a teacher by their first name and call me Rick. When you want to suck up, go with Doctor.
"Musicianship 101 is not a traditional class or even a traditional music class," Ripley explained. "It's designed to give you a broad outline and samplings of various professions that require a degree in music, discuss professional and personal aspects of having a music calling, and is basically a dumping ground for any other information that we professors think you all need to know that doesn't fit in other class descriptions."
Ripley clapped his hands and I saw his eyes gleam when some students jumped a little. Eight in the morning was probably not what a lot of them were thinking of when they got to college.
"All of you will be going straight to your first theory class after this, so we'll have you go around now and introduce yourselves. Get to know each other well," Ripley advised. "You'll be in classes together for theory and aural skills for the next one or two years. For now, we'll start with names, instruments, if you're a major or minor, and one interesting thing about you so that I'll remember your names."
By chance, Ripley pointed at the girl sitting on the opposite side of the room from me, so that I would be last. Thank God, but I was suddenly remembering that most of the significant, "interesting" things in my life might not be appropiate for public audiences.
"My name is Anne Marie Harper, vocalist and music major, and I love going to Renaissance Faires." She was pretty with curly blond hair, blue eyes, and a bright smile. Others would call her fat, but she just looked more solid than a stick-thin model.
My name is Rachel Gideon, I'm a music major and I play the flute. I was brutally attached by a serial killer last May. He may or may not still be after me.
Next was a guy with short dark hair, glasses, with a slight build. "Simon Reynolds, flute, music minor, and I also do carpentry with my dad. I made my own xylophone last year for my wood shop project."
Rachel Gideon, flute, major. Two years ago, my mother was murdered and my father abondoned me.
"Calleigh Hill, music minor and I play the cello. I'm also an English major and I run marathons." Calleigh was black with the awesome braided hair that looked stupid on just about anyone else.
Rachel Gideon…I have four brothers that I never see and rarely speak with.
Two more majors and a minor later, I was still cycling through my options.
…half the numbers on my speed dial go to federal agents…I can qualify for a concealed carry permit in two years with scores on par with academy graduates…I've come face to face with three different serial killers in the past three years…I used to make jewelry with my mother, but I haven't been able to since she died…
"I'm Kira Hart, I play the guitar and I'll be a music minor and major in art. I just got back from a trip to Japan with my bandmates." Kira had elvin features, but steely gray eyes. Her light brown hair was streaked with both blond high lights and dark red streaks. It was my turn after her and I still had no idea what to say.
It wasn't until I took a deep, silent breath through my nose that I finally had it.
"Hi, my name is Rachel Gideon. I will be a music major and I play the flute. I also practice yoga almost every morning."
"Right then, let's move on to the syllabus," Ripley announced.
From there, we covered the class syllabus and then went on a quick tour of the classrooms and practice rooms in the building. After that, we had enough time to meander to the classroom for our first theory class.
Our teacher was Doctor David Hodgins, a short, balding man with a laugh like a donkey braying. And Hodgins cracked himself up. Same routine for him, only this time we all mentioned different facts about ourselves. This time, I mentioned that I was vegetarian. Anne Marie, the aspiring opera singer, admitted to gobbling romance novels by the dozen. Kira collected fans, Calleigh's twin was also a student at Strader, and Simon had spent the last three summers at a monastic retreat. I made a note to trade meditation tips with him later.
If I needed proof that that Garcia had hacked my school records, I had it when she called me at the precise moment my theory class ended.
"How's it going, chica? Smarter already?"
"Hi, Penelope. Everything is going fine, I'm meeting lots of new people."
"Please tell me that there's a dozen cute boys fawning at your feet," the tech analyst with the personality of an entire pep squad in one body begged me.
"Not even close," I shot down. "I'm no goddess to attract the fawning hordes. Not like some people I know who have the adoration of a fellow analyst and a strapping FBI agent."
"You are a gorgeous, amazing young woman, and don't you ever let anyone treat you like you're not, understand?"
"Penelope, I love you, but I have to get going, okay?" I asked. I did love her but her effusive praise embarrassed the hell out of me.
"Yes, yes, yes. Of course my dove. Go learn and make friends!"
You'd think I was on my first day of kindergarten the way she went on sometimes. But no one was more loving and supportive. When I slipped my phone back in my pocket, I noticed that someone was waiting for me.
"Sorry," I apologized to Anne Marie.
"No problem," she answered. "Want to grab coffee before choir rehearsal?"
"How did you know I was in choir?" I asked. I had only said I played flute in our classes so far.
"Oh, I recognized you from auditions."
"Sure, the closest spot for coffee is next to the library," I explained. "This way."
I was familiar with the spot due to Megan's caffeine addiction—like all federal agents I knew, past or present—and while it wasn't nearly as good as Natasha's at the Crown Café, it was still decent. Considering we would be missing the typical lunch hour for rehearsal, Anne Marie and I also ordered a strawberry scone and an orange each.
"So, how long have you been playing the flute?" Anne Marie asked.
"Since I was eight," I said. "It was actually one of the first things I started when I moved here from California."
The blonde swallowed her latte and stared at me. "Wait, so you're from California, you're vegetarian, and you do yoga?"
Put that way, I laughed at what people would expect from me given only those facts.
"Well, I'm not strictly vegetarian," I explained. "I eat seafood, I can put up with chicken, but only once in awhile. And I've lived in Virginia longer than California now. But what about you?"
"Oh, my mom's a music teacher so I've been singing for as long as I've been talking. She's already told my dad that they are driving in for all our concerts."
Because we had remained close to the fine arts building, Anne Marie and I were some of the first students to enter the choir room for rehearsal. There was about half a dozen others already inside, including a guy at the piano playing a tune I immediately recognized.
"Jupiter is my favorite," I said, coming up behind the pianist. I loved Holst's style for orchestral works, especially his set of symphonies that were named after the planets and corresponded to the Roman gods. "I like Venus and Uranus, too."
The guy looked up to meet my eyes in surprise. "You should hear it on an organ," he replied in a British accent. He looked me over. "I'll listen to Mercury and Neptune. I usually skip Mars unless I need something to blast away my little sister's pop music."
I smiled in genuine delight, taking in the image of this guy who would use classical music to drown out someone else's choice. His height was a mystery as he remained seated, but his eyes were nearly black, his curly hair was dark brown, and his skin more tanned than pale. He wore jeans, a black tee shirt, and a gray striped shortsleeved button down.
"Rachel Gideon," I introduced myself with a smile.
"Matthew Ellis."
By that time, the choir director, Dr. Rebecca Harding arrived and approached us. Or rather, she approached Matthew.
"Matthew, would you oblige us today? Craig can't make it."
"Sure."
I headed to the singers' chairs, realizing that Matthew was going to be playing the role of accompanist for rehearsal.
"Let's get started then," Harding said and began a quick briefing on rehearsals and the upcoming concets for homecoming and family weekend.
Once we got started singing, I realized that while I didn't have same volume and tone of most of the other voices, I did pick up the melody and harmonies more quickly. It turned out to be just as fulfilling as playing my flute and I felt at home. By the end of rehearsal, I was glad that I had taken Ripley's advice about my vocal music credits.
I expected Anne Marie to find me first as rehearsal broke up, but Matthew got to me while I saw Anne Marie chat up some others while putting her music away.
"Got a class after this?" he asked me.
"I actually have work for a few hours before band practice later," I said regretfully. Colin would let me work a night or two and on weekends, but I needed to get money for my rent, cheap as it was.
"So, you're an instrumentalist spy, sent in to discover the vocal secrets of the choir," Matthew teased me.
"In your dreams," I joked back. "Besides, you play piano and organ," I pointed out, remembering his earlier comment. "You're not strictly a vocalist."
"But I study voice along with piano and organ," he corrected me.
"You mean you study all three here?" I asked in amazement. "So you've got three private lessons every semester?"
He frowned at me. "You say that like it's hard."
Even given everything I knew about human behavior, facial expressions, and vocal inflections—because any time Reid or Hotch had caught me in a lie, they would always tell me what exactly gave me away—I couldn't be sure if he was having me on or if he was serious.
"I'm impressed," I admitted simply.
Now I could tell he was somewhat embarrased by the way his eyes shuttered ever so slightly and his shoulders closed in just a fraction.
"Hey, I'm sure that anyone not involved in music thinks we're all insane for what we do," I said casually, trying to diffuse the subtle tension. "I mean, there are days I'm not entirely convinced I'm completely sane. Most days though, I know that music is the only thing that does keep me sane."
"Right," Matthew agreed with me easily. "That's exactly it."
"I really do have to go, though," I apologized again. "But, I'll see you tomorrow?"
Matthew grinned and I felt warm. "See you then."
Somehow, I got to my car and drove to the book store, said hello to Colin, and started working on inventory. I probably could have gotten away with not analyzing anything if Natasha hadn't showed up and started grilling me for details of my first classes as expertly as she grilled anything on a cooktop.
"Oh my God," she finally realized, understanding dawning on her face. "You were flirting!"
"I was talking," I corrected her uselessly. "It is possible to talk with someone of the opposite sex platonically."
"Possible yes," Natasha allowed. "But I can tell, there's a spark there and you felt it, you're just in denial."
"Tasha, you are reading far more into this than you should be," I tried in vain to stall her.
Sensing that I was close to snapping at her, she backed off. "All right. So, when are you done here? Adam's last class is done at six today, but I was thinking Dragonfly for sushi tonight to celebrate."
I might not have guessed that when I introduced my combat instructor at the FBI, Agent Adam Jones, to Natasha they would end up dating casually, but it was a nice side effect. Tasha's taste in men before this wasn't exactly stellar, so I was thrilled with the improvement even though both of them swore it wasn't anything serious.
"I go back for band practice at four until five fifteen."
"Okay, Adam and I will pick up you and Michael at six thirty."
Colin gave me a commiserating look after his daughter left.
"How on earth did a laid-back man like you end up with a steamroller like her?" I asked, half joking and half serious.
"Because she's exactly like my own mother," Colin told me. "Imagine having both of them in the same house."
I loved Natasha and Matilda both, but I shuddered at the thought.
At band practice, I was more free with introducing myself and found some nice people. I even ended up seated next to Simon from my theory class who also played the flute.
"So did you learn any good tricks from the monks over the summer?" I asked him in the moments before practice started.
"Right, you mentioned you practice yoga," Simon remembered from our morning classes. "Have you tried meditation before? I started with some easy techniques just with watching my breath…"
I didn't have the heart to tell Simon, but I wasn't certain that meditation would work for me. Yoga had the physical aspect that I could focus all of my attention without getting distracted. But he was nice to talk to. Some others joined our conversation, but soon we had to get to work on our repetoire for the fall concert.
The nice thing about the choir and band was that the students were from all the classes, freshman through senior. Many of my fellow freshman were elicting advice from the upper classmen for tips on various classes and professors. By the end of practice, I had learned the best times to grab a practice room, which professors actually held to their office hours, and how to approach the non-music professors about missing a class for a performance.
I got back to my apartment, paused at Michael's door and heard the shower running. He showered as soon as he got home every day, so he must have left a little early so he could get ready for going out. I left him to it and headed for my own home.
After I punched in the security code, I didn't give myself another moment to talk myself out of it, and called Hotch on my cell.
"Rachel, is something wrong?" he asked me straight off.
"No, I just wanted to tell you about my first day," I said honestly. It didn't matter how much I knew in my mind why Hotch was distant, I wanted to keep him updated with my life. Put simply, I missed him.
At first, I heard nothing on the other end of the line.
"Come on, do you really think he can hack our phones?" I challenged in exasperation. "He" meant only one person to both of us: George Foyet, better known as the Boston Reaper, and the serial killer responsible for the scars on both our bodies. And the scars on our hearts lately.
There was another pause from Hotch, almost long enough for me to think he was just going to brush me off. But I heard him suck in a deep breath before he spoke again.
"You had musicianship, music theory, and choir and band today, right? How was choir?" Hotch asked me, knowing me well enough to know that would have been the more daunting experience for me today.
"It was actually really nice," I started, and then I told him about everything.
Four years ago, when I was a freshman in high school, I had had both my parents as active participants in my life. Dad hadn't gone back to field work yet, I was still best friends with Alicia, and I hadn't been that aware of Hotch, Reid, or Garcia.
Today, I had the team as my family, I had Michael and Natasha, and I was meeting other potential friends. Today was a good day.
Notes:
I received three new reviews on Interlude this past week, the same week that I have five of the six chapters I had planned to start with for this movement. So, addressing the universe, yes, I get the hint-start posting!
In a way, it's almost like a new series and I did debate whether to title it that way. After all, Rachel is starting a new, significant time of her life. But I think this series has come to mean something, at least, I hope it has. So it has remained Sonata in G for Rachel's story.
Again, I plan to post six chapters as my first "section" and then will have a break while I do my best to write up the rest of the chapters for this movement. Before any of you worry, yes, "100" is included in these first chapters. But that's all you're getting out of me other than the reminder that I stick to canon events.
Welcome back and happy reading!
Cantoris