THE DATE

12-31-07/Monday evening.

Joan travels carefully through the streets of the nation's capital, exactly following the truck's GPS. The journey from Arcadia had gone well as the interstate was clear of snow and traffic was light. The Ford performed well, but it had been the topic of conversation just before leaving…

"I never figured you for a truck drivin' gal." Kevin said with a wide smile.

"I needed a vehicle and I inherited the truck from Jimmy."

"Still, it was quite a bother to drive it up all the way from Florida. You could have sold the truck there and used the money to buy a more 'Joan-like' choice here."

"The truck is only a little more than a year old and I adapted quickly to driving it. I like having a higher up view of traffic."

"Very sensible…but what was the real reason you kept the truck? Maybe it had a sentimental value after the two of you...did it in the truck?"

"Kev…" Joan began, followed by blushing and a nod.

Kevin laughed. "I knew it!"

"Fine Sherlock, you caught me. How about a little discretion?"

"My lips are sealed. And Joan, I really am glad you're…ya' know."

Joan sighed. "Finally getting on with my life. Yeah, I've been hearing this for months. So okay, it's full speed ahead."

"Does that mean you're going to sleep with this Spencer guy?"

"Of course not, Mr. Nosy." (90 percent guaranteed.)

Kevin's jokey farewell actually stirred a lot of troubling feelings for Joan. Is she really ready to date again? Certainly her libido and lonely soul are saying yes. But on a certain level, Joan can't shake the feeling she is betraying Jimmy. It was only today that she finally took off the engagement ring Jimmy gave her. Now locked in her strongbox, it is the first time since getting engaged that the ring has been off Joan's finger…

Joan's lip quivers as she recalls Jimmy proposing to her only last July. If that isn't enough to stir guilt, this new ability to perceive alternate timelines has added to Joan's burden. During her quick trip to Miami, Joan clearly saw the most likely scenario for Jimmy's life if they had not met. Jimmy would still be alive and happily dating a fellow Miami cop named Debra Morgan. Who knows how this change in the 'ripples' might even now be affecting this 'Debra' woman's lifepath?

Joan pulls to a stop in front of the ultra luxurious Hotel Panamanian, and for a moment she considers changing her mind about this date. But a very efficient red-jacketed valet appears at Joan's door. Joan accepts the valet ticket for her truck, and as it pulls away, Joan spots Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid hurrying down the hotel's steps to greet her. Like her, Spencer is also wearing a long winter coat. Spencer smiles and Joan is glad her memory of him rings true. Even though it has been two months since they last met, he is still very cute.

"Joan, it is so good to see you again." Spencer says as they exchange a hug.

"You too, Spencer. I'm really looking forward to this evening."

Spencer notes Joan's hair and makeup. "You look lovely."

"Thanks. Your hair is longer." Joan says as Spencer takes her arm and escorts her inside.

As they cross a large and elegant lobby, Spencer responds, "You'll think I'm vain, but my hair length is an on-going concern of mine. I immodestly think I look better with it long, but in an organization like the F.B.I., I start to feel the long hair makes me look unprofessional. When that thought starts to distract me, I cut it short. I'm relieved to have a more professional appearance because it can be difficult to be taken serious at my age amongst older co-workers, but then I miss the longer hair..."

Joan chuckles, "And the process starts all over again. Well, my opinion, you're right - you look better with it long. Looking your best and feeling confident about it will give you an air of professionalism, even if your appearance is outside the norm."

To Joan's surprise, she can sense Spencer is giving serious consideration to her words. At the cloakroom Spencer hands his overcoat to the attendant and while his back is turned, Joan removes her coat. Time to see if she will get her 'wow' moment. Spencer turns...

Joan tries to hand her coat to Spencer, but his body is frozen. However, his eyes are very actively looking Joan up and down, lingering on one tantalizing feature after another. At some point someone must have taught Spencer the rules of being a gentleman for he resumes eye contact, but Joan can tell it is a struggle for him. Spencer gulps hard...

"Joan, you look beautiful. That is an amazing dress."

"This old thing? Just something I threw on, and by that I mean it took me three hours to look like this."

A non-stop silly smile of pleasure and approval is on Spencer's face. "Definitely worth it."

Joan smiles back, enjoying her 'wow' moment. "And you Spencer, looking good in that tuxedo."

Spencer nods. "It's a common saying that all men look good in a tuxedo."

"I'm not sure about that, but the tux is a big improvement over your usual sweater vest and pocket protector. You look very handsome."

Spencer blushes before offering his arm. "This way to the grand ballroom."

As they proceed down a corridor, Spencer continues... "The modern tuxedo evolved out of a style of dress invented by a man named George Brummel. Known as 'Beau' Brummel, he was a confidante and fashion adviser to the Prince of Wales during England's Regency era. Prior to Brummel's influence, men wore brightly colored evening wear, makeup and lots of perfume to mask their habit of only bathing once a month or less. Brummel believed men should dress in a simpler, more elegant manner in black and white. He also promoted the idea of bathing daily."

"Sounds like we should all be grateful to this Beau Brummel. Someone should put up a statue."

"They recently did. In 2002 the artist Irena Sedlecka's staute of Brummel was erected on Jermyn Street in London. Sedlecka's works..."

As they enter the ballroom, Joan stops short. "Spencer...wow, now this is what I call a 'grand' ballroom."

Joan looks at the vast room with awe. An enormous room, it has a high vaulted ceiling with beautiful crystal chandeliers, all supported by four massive columns. To the far left is a huge window overlooking the hotel's sculptured gardens, and to the right is the bandstand where a band plays fairly modern tunes. Along the walls are large potted plants that partially conceal small alcoves and everything is panelled in a quality of wood that would be impossible to duplicate in this age. An impressive staircase leads to a balcony area that overlooks the dance floor, with small tables serviced by uniformed waiters. The dance floor is so vast, even with several hundred people present, there is no sense of crowding.

Spencer immediately launches into this new topic... "The Hotel Panamanian, built in 1925, has the largest ballroom in the city. At the time of its' construction, this was the most expensively built hotel in the country. For decades the Panamanian was the premiere hotel in Washington, and it has an amazing history of every type of famous people who have stayed here, including royalty, movie stars, presidents, foreign leaders, and so on. For nearly fifty years the Panamanian dominated the elegant, wealthy hotel scene in the capital. However, it began to go into decline as tastes changed and age caught up with the old hotel. By the mid-eighties the Panamanian had closed and was slated for demolition..."

"Which obviously didn't happen." Joan says as she notes how Spencer is a bit like Luke. He has so much information stored in that impressive brain, it just spills out with the slightest prompting.

"Preservationists fought hard to save the old hotel. It was named a national landmark and public funding was made available for a restoration project. A group of investors bought the Panamanian in '93 and gutted the old place. Historical features such as the panelling, chandeliers, brass railings, marble flooring and so forth were saved, but the rest of the hotel is completely new and modern. Only the styling remains as a reminder of an earlier era."

"Like those alcoves along the walls? Are those make-out spots?"

"At the time the hotel was constructed, public displays of affection were considered scandalous. The alcoves were there for a brief moment of kissing between young people in love..."

Spencer pauses, blushing. He is hoping Joan doesn't think he was suggesting... Joan smiles. Although she is trying hard not to 'read' Spencer, he is much too honest and guileless not to see what he is thinking. Once again Joan is struck by how nice a guy Spencer is, and how unaffected he is by the harsh things he experiences as a profiler for the F.B.I. Although older than Joan, Spencer has spent nearly all of his life as a sheltered academic, and in many ways he is far less experienced with the world than her. Joan finds this charming and reminds herself this is their first date - she is not going to sleep with him...(85 percent guaranteed).

"Would you like to meet my friend Morgan and his date?"

"Sure. Morgan is a fellow profiler?"

"Yes, but unlike me, he began his career as a cop in Chicago."

"My Dad was a cop in Chicago." Joan comments as she accompanies Spencer up the stairs to the balcony area.

"Perhaps they are acquainted?"

"Morgan is also the guy who has been mentoring you on how to score with women?"

Spencer blushes again. "I definitely didn't say that. Morgan is just helping me gain a little confidence and experience with approaching the opposite sex."

"Leading to scoring with them."

"Well...I suppose if you extrapilate to the ultimate conclusion..."

"Spencer, just kidding."

They reach the balcony area, a very large room of its' own with a bar. There is a brisk business in drinks and canapes being served. Joan and Spencer approach a table for two, one of the closest to the balcony railing and with a great view of the dancefloor below. At the table is an attractive woman around thirty and a man who causes Joan to hesitate for just a moment. Spencer's friend Morgan reminds Joan so much of Jimmy, it is eerie. Not that you would mistake them for twins, but like Jimmy, Morgan is ruggedly good looking, muscularly built, with a shaved head and a coffee & cream complexion that so reminds Joan of her late fiance, they could be brothers. Morgan stands and smiles a greeting...

"Reid, this is Joan? You didn't do her beauty justice."

Spencer beams with pride as he makes introductions. "Joan Girardi, this is my good friend, Derek Morgan."

"A pleasure to meet you, Joan. This is my date, Dr. Janet Jefferson."

Hanshakes and smiles go around the gathering.

"Are you F.B.I. as well, Dr. Jefferson?"

"Please call me Janet, and no. Despite this being a dance that consists mostly of government types, I'm a dentist who just happen to meet Derek at a coffee shop a couple of weeks ago. What about you, Joan?"

"Just a college student studying pre-law." Joan says as she notices Morgan's raised eyebrow at that. Obviously he is aware of Joan's connection to Homeland Security.

Morgan asks, "Janet, would you like to take a turn around the dancefloor?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Morgan adds, "Why don't you two take our table? It's reserved, but as the night goes along this place will fill, and someone might try to poach our spot."

Janet says, "Yes, and that way I can leave my purse behind."

"We'll watch it for you." Joan responds.

Morgan and Janet head downstairs, and as Spencer and Joan settle at the table, a waiter appears.

"Can I get you anything from the bar?"

Spencer asks, "Would you like some champagne, Joan?"

"Uh, do you have the non-alcohol kind?"

"Yes Miss."

"I'll have a glass of that."

Spencer adds, "The same."

As the waiter walks away, Joan remarks, "You don't have to go non-alcohol just because I am."

"I actually am not much of a drinker. Isn't this a wonderful view?"

Joan looks below and nods her agreement. You can see everything from this spot - the people in their formal attire, the band playing a mix of two slow tunes to every fast one. Joan notes that she is the youngest woman there, but not by much. Although the crowd is mostly in their thirties, there are fair number of twentyish couples.

"So most of these people work for the government?"

"Yes, a case of birds of a feather. Although there are people here from all walks of life, the majority work in federal law enforcement. There are prosecutors from the Justice Department, agents from the F.B.I., DEA, ATF, Homeland Security and U.S. Marshals."

"Sounds like this is the safest place to be in Washington tonight."

The waiter delivers their drinks, and Spencer holds his up for a toast. "To a wonderful evening."

"And the start of a happy new year." Joan says as they clink glasses.

After a sip, Spencer remarks, "Your part of the toast sounded just a touch bitter. Has 2007 been a particularly rough year?"

Joan smiles, doing her best to hide her feelings. She reminds herself to stay alert. Spencer is super smart and is also trained at reading people.

"You could say I've had better years."

"Oh of course, forgive me. For a moment I forgot about the loss of your fiance."

Joan nods, wondering when it will ever be possible to go through a day without thinking of Jimmy. "There's that and...other stuff."

"Job related? Working for Homeland Security must be challenging."

"It's not my job. As I told Janet, I'm a full time pre-law student. I only do part-time consulting work for Homeland Security."

"Yes, you and your mysterious 'psychic' abilities."

Joan winces at this. Of all the topics she didn't want to talk about, this is top of the list.

"So, tell me about your degrees. I recall you said you had three doctorates?"

Spencer smiles. "She said, changing the subject. Yes, as you know I have a doctorate in psychology, but my first two were in chemistry and engineering."

"Oh wait, don't tell me. You were going to be a rocket scientist?"

Spencer nods. "I'll admit that the thought of working for NASA dominated my early academic efforts."

"So what happened?"

"I've always been fascinated by the study of psychology, especially abherent behavior. Once I began a serious study of the subject, I knew I had found what I wanted to do with my life. I was recruited to the Behavorial Analysis Unit by a man named Jason Gideon - my first mentor at the F.B.I., now retired. What I do may seem strange to most people, but I find great satisfaction in making society safer by helping to capture serial arsonists, rapists and murderers. What about you Joan, why the study of law?"

"My heritage, I suppose. My Dad and his father were career cops, and my other grandfather is a lawyer. He really encouraged me to study the law. If I do okay in pre-law and get into law school, I'm thinking of going into prosecution."

"We may work one day as colleagues. Speaking of your father, I see from internet sources in Arcadia he is planning to run for mayor?"

"Yeah, people have been encouraging Dad to run for office ever since he took down the last elected mayor and a bunch of other crooks in a big corruption scandal."

"I remember that. Arcadia became the largest city ever to have its' charter revoked."

"That's Arcadia: 'The Most Corrupt City In America'. At least it was. Since Dad cleaned up the place, things have been a lot better."

"With the exception of the Ryan Hunter scandal."

Joan sighs. She knows Spencer is just trying to engage in friendly chitchat, but he is hitting all of her hot buttons. "Yeah...Ryan is the reason it has taken so long for Arcadia to get out of its' probationary status and back to regular elections. Dad announces his candidacy tomorrow."

"How are his chances?"

"Pretty good, if you can believe the media. 'Honest Will Girardi' is how he is referred to, and most people in Arcadia go along with that. Dad probably won't have anyone challenging him in the primary."

Their conversation continues, drifting from one topic to another, and Joan realizes she is very comfortable with Spencer. He is easy to talk to, attentive and genuinely interested in her beyond his physical attraction for her. Although Spencer tends to run on and on when allowed, he takes no offense when a suggestion is made that he is supplying too much information about any particular subject. (Apparently his friends do this for him on a regular basis.)

After about five dances, Morgan and Janet return. Joan lets them 'purse sit' for her as she and Spencer work their way to the dancefloor. The first dance is a slow one, and Spencer dances in a very formal manner. Joan wishes he would hold her closer, but she is enjoying being in his arms too much to criticize. The next dance is a faster number, and Joan begins to unwind, moving freely around Spencer, enjoying herself. She has always been a bit unihibited when it comes to dancing, and other than being careful not to 'pop-out' of her dress, Joan is completely happy and carefree for the first time in a long while. Spencer openly admires Joan for her freedom of movement, and begins to feel a little flushed as he notices how that amazing dress hugs ever curve of her body.

The next dance is another slow one, and this time Joan takes the inititive and moves in close. Spencer takes the hint and holds her tight. Joan sighs a little as she notices Spencer beginning to loosen up a bit himself...

"I thought you told me you were a mediocre dancer?" Joan remarks.

"When you accepted my invitation to this dance, I began practicing every day."

Joan can tell that it is the truth, and she easily imagines Spencer spending hours each day practicing his dance moves. How sweet.

"You're doing great. I think we have found another hidden talent of yours."

Spencer chuckles, and Joan is glad to hear the sound. Maybe it is because of the harsh realities he has to deal with, but Joan has noticed Spencer doesn't laugh much. For one silly moment, Joan wonders if he is ticklish? I suppose I'll find out when we're...in bed. Whoa, where did that thought come from? I am not...almost certainly not, going to sleep with Spencer on our first date...75 percent guaranteed. Joan can't keep from smiling at this thought, and leans even closer to Spencer... Uh-oh. Apparently I'm not the only one thinking along those lines.

Having danced with boys since her middle school days, Joan is familiar with this...problem. 'Take it as a compliment' is what the guys usually say, and what can you expect from teenaged boys? But really Spencer, you're a grown man. Shouldn't you be in better control of yourself than...wait a minute.

"Spencer, is that large bulge I feel...a gun?"

With a touch of mischief in his eyes, Spencer smiles and replies, "God, I hope so."

Joan giggles for a moment but then looks at Spencer with suspicion. "Why are you packing heat?"

"Joan, I'm an F.B.I. agent. I frequently 'pack heat'."

"Yeah, but on a date at a formal dance? Maybe if you were James Bond... Hey, are you on the job?"

Spencer looks about nervously and whispers, "We need to find a quiet place to talk."

The pair look about and drift toward the closest alcove along the wall. Making sure no one can overhear, Spencer leads Joan into the seclusion of the small space that is mostly hidden by a large potted plant.

"Normally I'm not allowed to discuss matters like this in order to prevent a panic, but since you have top secret clearance with Homeland Security..."

"Spill it, Mr. Profiler. What's going on?"

"About an hour before you arrived, the BAU was informed of a bomb threat to one of the formal dances being held in Washington tonight. We don't know which one is the target, but Homeland Security informs us that the bomber has four shaped charges hidden in suitcases. Other members of my team have been sent to cover the various events, hoping that we might be able to spot trouble in time to act."

"So you're idea of a great date is to let me enter the kill zone?"

"Joan, I never would have let you come tonight if I thought the threat was real. If I did, I would have called and cancelled on some pretext."

"So why are you so sure this isn't for real?"

"The bomb threat came as an anonymous tip. The sad fact is, we receive countless such tips every year and 99 percent of them are hoaxes. I can't imagine why Homeland Security insisted we take this one seriously, but since Morgan and I were already coming to this dance, we volunteered to profile the crowd looking for any potential threat. Neither of us believe there is the slightest risk, and that's why we didn't warn off you or Janet."

"This explains why the two of you are taking turns on the balcony watching the crowd. Well, you can relax. I'm also sure there's no bomber here."

A familiar voice remarks, "That's good to know, Joan."

Joan sighs heavily before turning around to face Issac B. Dunn, the Director of Covert Operations for Homeland Security, and Joan's master in the agency. Behind him is Dunn's bodyguard and flunky, Agent Melvin Brown.

"Hey I.B., never figured you for a party animal. Bold choice, a blue tuxedo."

"Blue...?" Dunn says and then snorts derisively. His complete color blindness is known to Joan.

Joan adds, "Melvin, old buddy, is this the best you could do for a New year's Eve date?"

Brown grunts but says nothing.

Spencer gulps nervously. "Director Dunn..."

"I know you...Dr. Reid, isn't it? You gave a lecture to my senior people on the psychology of the terrorist."

"Yes sir."

"Too bad you've forgotten security protocols. This matter is labeled top secret."

Joan quickly says, "And I have that clearance, so no protocols were violated. But what are you doing here I.B.? Isn't field work below your pay grade?"

"There is a threat to my people. I take that seriously. I wanted to be sure they are safe."

Joan would love to think that I.B. is grandstanding, putting on a show to impress those who work for him, but Joan reads that it isn't so. He is genuinely concerned for the safety of the people who work for him. Annoyingly, Joan can even read his concern for her well being. Damn, just when she thought she had the man pegged in a very small hole...

"Anything to report, Dr. Reid?"

"Agent Derek Morgan and I have been diligently watching every new person who enters, looking for anyone who fits the profile of a potential bomber. No one has even remotely resembled such a profile."

"And you Joan, you confirm in your own unique way this is true?"

"I.B., if there was a bomber here, even in a crowd as large as this, I would know it."

"Very well, I'll take your word for it, Joan. I'll be moving on to the other potential targets. Stay alert, the night is still young. And Dr. Reid, don't let this young woman's nearly naked body distract you from your duties. You are here to protect lives, not gratify your libido."

Dunn walks away, immediately followed two paces behind by Agent Brown. Joan watches and fumes.

"Nearly naked? What does he mean by that crack? There's nothing wrong with the way I'm dressed...is there?"

Spencer shakes his head. "You look wonderful. I'm the envy of every man here, but Director Dunn did make one point. Your beauty is a definite distraction. How will I be able to concentrate on my work with such loveliness before me?"

Joan snickers. "Did Morgan give you that line?"

"All my own, and not a line."

Spencer and Joan share their first kiss of the evening. Joan tries to remind herself she will not be sleeping with Spencer tonight. Seventy percent...

X X X X X

The night progresses with the two couples alternating time on the balcony and time on the dancefloor. Janet begins to find this a little odd, but since no one else seems to object, she remains silent. Besides, Derek Morgan has her complete attention. Spencer manages to whisper to Morgan that Joan is in on their secret, but he takes that in stride. He also confirms that he met Will Girardi a couple of times when they were both cops with the Chicago police.

Back on the balcony for another turn at crowd watching, Spencer and Joan hold hands while watching the people down below.

"The crowd is getting larger." Joan remarks.

"It will continue to do so until about an hour before midnight. Many people do a complete circuit of the various parties and don't chose which one they will stick with until quite late. By midnight there will be well over a thousand people in this room."

"And still no sign of trouble. Looks like you were right, at least about the dance here."

"And you're sure you would detect any...person of interest if he should show up?"

Joan realizes they can't casually use the word 'bomber' without risking a panic. "Very sure. I guess you find that kind of...weird."

"Before I met you Joan, I would have descibed such a possibility as bizarre, and any such person as deluded. Now...well, I still think it's bizarre, but I believe you."

"Thank you. Sometimes, the 'weird' label begins to wear me down."

"I don't think of you like that, Joan. I think you are the most amazing young woman I have ever known."

Joan smiles and leans in for a kiss, one of several they have shared this evening. They seperate slightly, their breaths co-mingling, filled with phermones. Each is intensely aware they are at the begining of something with great potential. Sixty percent...

Spencer sighs and tries to regain control of his hormones. "Uh, if you're getting hungry, there is a late supper buffet in the restraunt."

"Sounds good. We'll skip our next time dancing and chow down." Joan says as she slides her fingers through Spencer's hair. Neither of them is thinking of food.

Spencer looks into Joan's eyes and he feels himself getting lost in them. He wants to know Joan in every possible way...

"Joan, I may regret this, but Morgan gave me some advice before our date..."

"Oh really? Such as?"

"Morgan reserved a room upstairs in case...in case one of us..."

"Got lucky?" Joan asks with an edge to her voice.

"Morgan said you would be insulted if I didn't ask at least once if you would..." Spencer pauses, realizing he has made a tactical error.

Eighty percent. "Spencer, isn't it time you stopped listening to Morgan on the subject of women?"

"But I have observed on numerous occasions that Morgan is very, very successful with women while I...am not."

"And do you know why that is?"

"Because women consider Morgan drop dead gorgeous?"

"Well yeah, but that's not the reason - at least not all of it. Derek Morgan is absolutely confident of his desirability to women. For him, 'Hello' is about all he needs to get most women into his bed."

"Because he is so much better looking than me."

Joan shakes her head. "His looks are only a small part of it. They give him the confidence to be himself. Women see in him not just sex, but sex with a really nice guy...who happens to be drop dead gorgeous. Great combination - it works for him. But if Morgan was a jerk...he'd still get laid, but not nearly as often and not with such a high class of woman like Janet."

"How can you be so sure Morgan is such a nice guy?"

"Earlier, when we were in the ladies room, Janet confided to me that she's taking Morgan home with her tonight."

"How does that mean Morgan is a nice guy?"

"Janet is a local. Morgan didn't need to get a room for whichever one of you got lucky."

"Ah, the light dawns. He got it for me because he knew I would never have the confidence to think of such a thing."

"And that's the lesson you have now learned from Professor Joan. Be confident, be yourself. Don't try to imitate what works for Morgan, you're not him. But, you are a really nice guy, very cute and quite frankly, that giant brain of yours is a helluva turn on."

Spencer blinks a couple of times. "Most women seem to find me boring. I tend to ramble a bit on a wide variety of subjects."

"I'm not saying there isn't room for improvement. A little self editing might come in handy."

"That agrees with Morgan's advice. He also persuaded me not to bring my magic tricks. I was going to try to impress you."

Joan smiles. "Okay, maybe some of Morgan's advice has merit, but I still think you should trust your own instincts more. Ignoring Morgan, how would you handle the rest of this evening?"

"Well, we could continue dancing."

"Sounds good."

"Continue...flirting."

"Even better."

"Then at midnight, we would share a very long, romantic kiss. And if that should lead to passion..."

"Then who knows what might happen?"

Both smiling, the young couple lean in for another kiss, but this one lasts and lasts. Their very romantic kiss comes a couple of hours early. Moans of pleasure escape Joan's lips as she thinks: fifty-fifty. Suddenly Joan freezes. Spencer senses the mood change and pulls back a bit...

"Joan?"

"He's here."

"He...?"

Spencer rises from the table and begins looking around the room below. Joan joins him and knows Spencer will eventually spot the man who fits a bomber's profile, but she knows right where he is. Even if she couldn't sense the evil he has brought into the room, she would still know. To Joan's surprise, she recognizes the man. Joan doesn't know the man's name, but last summer when she was a prisoner of the Brotherhood of American Blood, she saw him in the warehouse where she was held. Back then he was called 'Colonel' - an adviser to General Hobart Smith.

"Far left corner, in front of the last alcove on that side."

"Fellow in the white dinner jacket with the crewcut?"

"That's him. He's a member of the Brotherhood, rank of Colonel."

"How do you know...?"

"Classified."

Spencer nods as he sends a quick text message to Morgan. A couple of minutes later Morgan joins them...

"I sent Janet home in a cab. Told her I wasn't feeling well and that I was going to say goodbye before leaving. What have we got?"

Spencer points out Colonel Whoever and Morgan immediately agrees with the risk assessment.

"This is bad. See how the guy has placed himself in the corner? There's no way to approach him without being spotted." Morgan says.

Spencer adds, "And he hasn't taken his hand out of his left pocket since he got here. Odds are, that's where he has the detonator device. If Joan is correct, and this 'Colonel' is a part of the failed Brotherhood movement, he may be on a martyr's mission."

Joan asks, "Can't you get these people out of here? Maybe fake a fire alarm?"

Morgan shakes his head. "The moment anything suspicious starts to happen, that guy will trigger his bombs. If only we knew where they were."

Joan replies, "Upstairs in four different rooms."

Spencer asks, "How do you know?"

"You said he had four suitcase bombs. Those four pillars may be covered in fancy panelling, but they're really steel reinforced concrete. They hold up the central core of the building."

Morgan nods. "She's right, but those bombs could be on any of the floors above. If that guys sets them off, half of the hotel will come crashing in on us. He must be using either a radio device or a cell phone to trigger the bombs. What is he waiting for?"

Joan replies, "The biggest bang for his buck."

Spencer says, "Joan is right. He wants to take as many people as possible with him, so he will probably wait for when the crowd is largest - right at midnight."

"That gives us time. We could set up an electronic jammer that would block all signals." Morgan suggests.

"He might be in constant contact with the bombs. Any interruption in the signal could trigger the explosions. Sniper?"

"Same problem. The Colonel might have a dead man's switch rigged. His dying would set off the bombs. Or we might just be second guessing ourselves. Maybe there is no triggering device. It might be old fashioned timers, or any of another dozen possibilities. Without more information, we can't know the best course of action. We may have to take our best guess and hope we get lucky."

Joan sighs. She knows what she has to do and hates it.

"Follow my lead. When you see your moment, take it."

Morgan begins, "What do you..."

But Joan is already on her way downstairs. She focuses on the man in the far corner, excluding all other sources of distraction. It is known as sexual charisma, an ability taught to her by her tutor in a know-your-enemy lesson. Joan is the first instrument of God ever to use it for the good side because it causes so much distress to the soul. Joan reaches out with her spirit to the soul of the other man. It requires a lot of concentration, but soon Joan makes contact. She begins to stroke the man's libido, arousing him like a teenage boy with his first copy of Playboy. The man reacts with confusion at first. He is very focused on his mission, and his instincts fight against this sudden influx of passion. But he can not resist, and soon he is looking about the room, searching for the source of his arousal. He spots Joan and instantly becomes fixated upon her. At first, this is like another 'wow' moment for Joan, but from there it quickly becomes creepy.

Joan reaches the main level and begins casually strolling about the room. Too direct of an approach might break the mood, and Joan definitely wants the Colonel using only small head thinking. Joan can sense his every desire, and they are soon straying into disgusting, depraved fantasies. It takes all of Joan's willpower not to let this affect her concentration. Slowly, Joan makes her way around the room until she seemingly just happens to notice the Colonel...

"Why hello, it seems we are the only two people here tonight who are unattached."

"I - I came stag."

"Lucky me, I was getting so bored." Joan says as she comes closer.

The Colonel looks her up and down with growing interest. His devotion to the cause, his willingness to sacrifice his own life, all but forgotten. "If you're looking for some excitement..."

He indicates the nearby alcove with its' relative privacy. Joan gives the naughtiest smile she can muster...

"We'll have to be quiet and quick."

"I can do quick."

Joan takes him by his right hand and leads the Colonel into the alcove. At once he is all over her, kissing her hard and groping her breasts with both hands. It is only a moment before Morgan has the man tackled and in handcuffs. Spencer quickly searches for the detonation device...

"I can't find it!"

Joan murmurs, "I already have it."

While the Colonel was distracted with both hands free, Joan picked his pocket. As they thought, it is a common cell phone. Morgan takes the phone while Joan shudders with disgust. The aftereffects of sexual charisma always include a sense of self-loathing as Joan feels as if her soul is filthy. Any amorous thoughts are gone, for if any man touched her now, Joan's flesh would crawl. Sorry Spencer, but not tonight...

Spencer. Joan looks over to her date, and now that the excitement of the arrest is over, he is thinking clearly. Dr. Spencer Reid is an expert on human behavior, and he knows a man like the Colonel doesn't abandon a kamikaze mission just for a quickie with a woman he spotted only a couple of minutes before. What Joan has done is...unnatural. It is a level on manipulation that the human soul, with its' gift of free will, finds abhorant. Joan sees the look in Spencer's eyes, and even though he tries to hide it, and she knows he will never look at her the same as before. He will never be able to trust that she isn't manipulating him. Joan sees...revulsion.

X X X X X

After a very fast drive home, Joan pulls up in front of the Girardi house. She notices the Volvo isn't there, but why should it be - Mom and Dad will still be at the New Year's Eve party at the Hotel Wentworth. There are still a couple of minutes to go before midnight. Joan exits her truck and heads for the house. She is dressed in the spare clothes she brought with her. The expensive dress she abandoned in the ladies room of the Hotel Panamanian. After the arrest, the Colonel was quietly hurried out of the hotel, and virtually none of the party guests noticed anything unusual. There were demands for post-action reports, paperwork and interviews about what happened, but Joan was still too distressed to co-operate. Fortunately, and Joan never thought she would use that word concerning I.B., Director Dunn showed up, saw how upset Joan was and gave her permission to leave on his authority. He would deal with the F.B.I. and their endless questions.

Joan enters the house feeling exhausted and depressed. The drive home gave her time to think about her life (fortunately there were no state cops monitoring traffic going out of Washington). Joan feels a great sadness about the loss of Spencer Reid. He might not have been the next true love of her life, but he was a nice, cute guy that she really liked. He would have made a great boyfriend...and possibly, lover. Yes, all kidding aside, she had been planning to sleep with him all along.

Joan sees the scene in the living room. E.T. is asleep in her playpen, Luke and Grace are asleep on the couch and Annie, with the remote in her hand, has the sound on the TV turned down low. She is waiting for the traditional countdown to the end of the year. Annie spots her aunt, waves and places a finger to her lips. She kindly doesn't want to disturb her sleeping parents. Joan waves back and heads for the kitchen. She trusts that when the night's 'excitement' is over, Annie will gently awaken Luke and Grace.

In the kitchen, Joan considers a snack - she hasn't eaten since midday, but she is too depressed to face food. Another guy gone from her life, and this one over with before they could really get started. Joan sees the pattern in her life, and wonders if it is a sign. Adam, Dylan, Jimmy and now Spencer - all gone to some degree because of her connection to God. What if she isn't meant to be with someone? She has free will, but how many times must she go down this path of heartbreak before she learns her lesson? Joan is an instrument of God, and maybe that means she should be alone so she can dedicate herself to serving. Isn't that what is recommended in the bible? Dating, sex, marriage and so on are too much of a distraction in her line. She could resign, but Joan has gone that route before. She knows the work is too important to walk away from. Tonight, she saved hundreds of lives...and all it cost her was another boyfriend.

Tears begin to plop from Joan's eyes as she contemplates a future alone. The demands on her time are growing, especially with the new ability God wants her to learn. She will never have time for dating or a husband or a child...even if she is still capable of having one. It is time to face her harsh reality. Put aside her hormonal yearnings, forget about a man in her life and focus on serving. That's all she has left, and it should be enough. Anything else would be selfish on her part...wouldn't it?

Joan decides against eating. Just go upstairs, set your alarm for your morning workout session and focus on being an instrument of God. On being that weird girl who will never know love, who will always be...alone. Joan looks over to the wine rack and almost without thinking, she grabs a bottle with her right hand, then after only the briefest hesitation, a second bottle with her left hand. As Joan slowly climbs the backstairs, she faintly hears the sound of Annie counting down the last few seconds of 2007.

To Be Continued. Please review.

(What a rough year for Joan. Maybe 2008 will be better?)