The jet was small but comfortable, with cozy white seats and faux-wood walls in the cabin. I'd stuck the folded-up hospital johnny in the plastic shopping bag. It really was the only thing I had to call my own.

JJ had immediately headed for the seat closes to the cockpit, while Reid sat across the aisle from her. He patted the seat next to him when I looked around, trying to figure out where to sit. Aren't you getting a bit too dependent on him? spoke a little voice in the back of my mind. After all, you know what people you trust do to you. They leave you, betray you, hurt you, die. They leave you all alone, with no one but yourself to rely on. I pushed the thought away. Even if this didn't work, I'd find something. I always had, hadn't I? I was the world's best escape artist. I always found a way out. Except for when it counted most. That line was accompanied by the memory of the dark room and the feel of my own blood clothing me. Then a door opening, light shining where there was none.

I snapped out of my inner tete-a-tete and sat next to him. From her backpack, JJ pulled a thick manilla folder emblazoned with a logo I couldn't see, and a thin black pen. She flipped through the folder, and, finding the page she'd wanted, began to read. Every now and then, she wrote a few words in or crossed something out. I could see that this was methodical work that she was used to. She leaned towards the page and occasionally made a little snort, always followed by a cross-out. It was fascinating, the way her thoughts played out across her face. When she was confused, she'd furrow her brow and continue reading. As soon as the fact that'd confused her was explained, she'd smile and give a small nod. Everything seemed to surprise her, to capture her interest fully. If something seemed far-fetched, she'd raise a brow and make a small notation. I spent a good twenty minutes, just watching her.

Spencer, on the other hand, had taken a few stapled pages out of the folder and was reading them and comparing them to some notes he'd taken in a small black book the night before. I was tempted to comment on that, but I didn't. The two of them periodically interrupted each other with questions.

I'd never been in a plane before, so I amused myself by staring out the window, watching entire cities disappear beneath clouds. We dove into the puffs, and the view became fluffs of white, some thick and dark, some light and wispy. Our plane came through on the other side of the clouds to blind me with the brightest, purest sunshine I'd ever seen. It was amazing.

Eventually, we had to land, and I was disappointed. Although Virginia was sunny and bright, unlike the damp dark of New York, I wanted the flight to go on forever. JJ snapped out of her focus, and gazed around with the dazed look of someone who'd been nearly asleep. She reorganized the folder quickly, taking the pages Spencer had grabbed, and stashed it in her backpack. All three of us stretched and exited the plane.

It was easily twenty degrees warmer in Virginia. I didn't need Spencer's jacket. The light breeze made the skirt of the borrowed dress flutter around my legs, made me smile. The air strip was relatively small, and there were three other identical jets lined up.

Once again, we all piled into a black van, but this time it was comfortably silent. All of us were thinking- me about the weather and Spencer, Spencer about I don't know what, and JJ probably considering the contents of the file she'd been reading. The drive was very short. We pulled around to the back of a large building and shuffled into the lobby. Then Reid led the way through a maze of hallways, and we ended up in an office. It looked down onto a bullpen of desks, each one manned by a professionally dressed agent. Some were taking calls, some reading files identical to the one in JJ's backpack, some talking to each other. It was business as usual for them. For me, it was incredibly weird. I'd never been in an office in my life, excluding the principal's and my lawyer's.

In the office, there was a large, round table surrounded by comfortable rolling chairs. There was a whiteboard, a corkboard, and a projector screen on each of three walls. The other wall was entirely glass, with a glass door. A tall, handsome man entered. He had coffee-colored skin and looked like a young war hero- brave and proud, with an easy smile. "So you must be the lovely lady I've been hearing so much about."

I nodded and raised my eyebrow. "You must be the lady's man I've been hearing so much about. Agent Morgan, right?"

He laughed, grinning wider. "I guess I am. You're Miss Ortiga?"

"I am. Call me Sera." I turned to Spencer and JJ. "That goes for you two, too."

"Look at this little lady, bossing us FBI agents around! Well, I guess I got no choice. Come on, sit down, Sera." He gestured to the seat between Reid and JJ, and I sat. He sat across the table from us. I gripped Spencer's hand under the table. Agent Morgan seemed nice enough, but he still made me nervous.

"I bet Reid told you why you're here?"

I gulped. "Uh, yes. I'm the only surviving victim of some psycho you've been tracking, right?"

He nodded. "Yes. We want to catch this guy alive and put him in jail for the rest of his miserable life. The only way we can do this is if you help us. So we gotta keep you safe, and trust me, Sera, there is no place safer than the FBI." Agent Morgan looked me in the eyes. "Nothing can hurt you here, okay? We'll keep this bastard from ever hurting anyone again."

I nodded and looked at my lap. I hoped, more than anything, that this man was right. "How can I help?"

The agent smiled again. "All you have to do is tell us what happened. Then we'll find this guy, and you just have to tell the judge what happened, and he'll get what he deserves. But you gotta stay with us for a little while, because this guy's gonna want to finish what he started."

I tried to ignore what that last bit meant. "Spencer has what happened written down," I mumbled, looking at Spencer shyly. "Um, yes, I do," he said, fumbling through his pockets for the notebook. I turned to JJ. "Is he always like this?"

She laughed a little as she answered. "Yeah, pretty much. For someone so brilliant, he's pretty scatterbrained." Morgan and Spencer were looking over the notebook. "Brilliant?" I asked, curious.

"Yeah, brilliant. He's got a really high IQ- nearly 200- and he got his doctorate a year or two ago, when he was still a teenager." She looked at him with obvious admiration when she said this, as did I. I thought getting bumped up two grades in high school was big, but this.... wow.

"Sera," Morgan called. "Can you come over here?" I got up and walked to where he and Spencer were sitting. "Yes?"

"Can you just read through what Spencer wrote, and make sure he got it all down? If something's wrong, just fix it, and add anything that's not there."

I took the notebook and pen from Morgan's hand and began to page through the notebook. Spencer had it all right- Tall caucasian male, strong, blonde hair, dark eyes, red t-shirt, black leather belt (allegedly taken from victim), blue jeans, tennis shoes. I added a bit- looked like Agent Hotchner. White tennis shoes with black laces. Very deep voice. Scar in the shape of a cross on left shoulder. Silver wedding band.

"That's it," I said, putting down the pen and shutting my eyes. I took a few deep breaths. I didn't want to remember; I wanted to pretend it never happened.

The agents waited until I opened my eyes to ask anything else. Spencer looked at me, concerned, and reached across the table for my hand. I let him, and he spoke in a soft voice. "Sera, did he say anything to you? Besides the comment about the belt?"

I squeezed my eyes shut again, searched through my mind as Spencer held my hand. "He told me his name was Jonas Vickers. He found me, when I'd fallen over a crack in the sidewalk and broke my ankle. He said he'd bring me to the hospital, but he didn't... and he said I shouldn't trust strangers. He said it was too bad for me that he wasn't a faggot who could've left me alone, because I was too pretty for a 'real' man to leave alone. And then he told me about the belt, when he was undoing it. Then.... he did all of it. And left me there. And you found me." I was crying by then, tears streaming down my painfully pulsing face.

Spencer spoke. "It's not your fault, Sera. It's not your fault. This man did what he did because he's psychotic, not because of you. After all, some psychoses are completely physiological, stemming from actual defects in the tissue formations of the brain. Technically, it's not his fault either, but the fault of his genetics-"

"B-b-but he did! He said it was my fault, he said that gay people were an abomination, and that I shouldn't be helping them... He had the articles! He had all of the articles I wrote! He showed them to me and said they were why I had to die, because anyone helping fags were just as bad as them!"

"You wrote articles?" Morgan's voice asked.

I wiped my eyes. "Yes, I write articles for newspapers. Most of them are about gay rights, since my parents, my mother and my other mother, are together. They're the reason I write freelance since I graduated. They always told me to follow my passion, and I always thought they should be able to be together for real, married." I finished wiping the tears from my face. "That's why this happened. If I'd just gone to law school like my grandmother wanted me to, I wouldn't be here now." I shot a guilty glance at Spencer. I hoped he'd understand that I didn't want to be here, but I did want to be with him; he was the only good thing that had come of this man's 'mission'. If I could've changed the past and brought us together in some other way, I would've. But this was real life, and I had to take Doctor Spencer Reid as the silver lining of the darkest cloud I'd ever seen.

***

The small conference in the office was over, and JJ had gone to fetch Garcia. Spencer and I were at the coffee machine in a small corner of the bustling, but not chaotic, bullpen below.

"You were brave in there, you know," Spencer told me, handing me a hot cup of coffee. "That must have been extremely hard for you. Sixty-four percent of all females between the ages of eleven and twenty who have been sexually assaulted can't bring themselves to tell anyone about the attack."

I smiled weakly. Obviously, he was trying to make me feel better, but he needed to learn the fine art of conversation. That did not include spouting off statistics at any given point. "I just want this man gone. Dead, wiped off the face of the planet, trapped in a cell forever, I don't care. I want him gone."

He gave me a solemn nod. "The whole team's trying their hardest to make that happen. And you have already helped a lot."

JJ picked that moment to rush up to us, smiling, dragging a curvy blonde with thick glasses behind her. "Sera, this is Penelope Garcia, Garica, this is Sera. Play nice. I have paperwork to do." She exited.

I stuck out my hand. "Hi, Ms. Garcia, it's nice to meet you."

Garcia was dressed in a very colorful outfit. Red and pink striped skirt, bright red shirt, hot pink cardigan and plenty of sparkly clips in her hair. Spencer was right, if anyone could personify a pair of mismatched socks, it was her. She knocked my hand away and hugged me- that gave me a bit of a surprise. Spencer shot me an apologetic look. She's always like this, he mouthed.

Garcia used the hug to whisper conspiratorially to me. "So, I hear you're the lucky lady who finally snagged the gorgeous young genius-man, here? Congratulations. Many have tried and failed."

I grinned at her as she pulled away from me. "Yeah, I guess I have."

"Well, I'm glad you did. And you can call me Garcia, or Penny, or Tech Goddess of the East." She bowed with a flourish as she said this, and I laughed. These people had a sense of humour, unlike the cops I was used to. "You've met my bronze god, Morgan, right?" I nodded. "So that's Hotch, Reid, Morgan, JJ, and me.... all you have left is Rossi and Emily! And I am so going to be there for that." She took a step closer to the pair of us and winked. "I want to see of they can puzzle out this delicious little secret thang you two have going on."

A cell phone beeped, and Garcia answered it. "Oracle of All Things Computerized, here." She listened for a moment, then crooked her finger at us in a "come along" gesture. Spencer took his place next to me and helped me up the stairs.

As we walked into here dark office, she snapped the phone shut. "Come into my lair." Garcia sat at the one chair in front of the wall of computer screens. She jiggled the mouse, and all of them came to life with the same thing: An FBI logo on a yellow background. "Watch this," she said, and pulled up a black window. "Ask me anything you want to know," she said, grinning at me. I couldn't think of anything, and I shrugged. "Fine." She pouted, turning to Spencer. "Genius Boy, give me a question, any question. Something Little Miss here could verify, maybe?"

Spencer pondered that for a moment. "Find me one Serena Ortiga's middle name."

"Oh, no....." I moaned piteously. "No, please, Garcia, anything but that...." But she was already typing.

"Aha! Here it is. You ready, Reid?" I buried my face in my hands as he nodded. I knew what was coming. "Ethel!" Spencer said, surprised.

I sighed and uncovered my face. "Yeah, Ethel. It was my biological grandmother's name."

Garcia was trying not to laugh. So was Spencer.

"Fine! Laugh at me. In the meantime, I'm going to go do something useful." I tried to stomp out of the office, but my limp really didn't give it the look I was going for, and they both burst out laughing. I kept hobbling to somewhere else, until I got to the stairs. I glared at the two of them, watching me from the end of the hallway. Then I glared at the stairs, frustrated, arms crossed. I glared back at Spencer, who was coming towards me, still grinning like an idiot. As soon as he wrapped an arm around my waist, I told him "Once you help me down the stairs, I'm never talking to you again. Or Garcia. Ever. I swear to God." He just laughed.

Being stuck touching someone who really annoyed me made the trip downstairs seem to last hours. My lips were pinched together the whole time, whereas Spencer seemed to find the whole situation hilarious. Once the trip was over, I hobbled as far away from him as I could. "Aw, come on, it's not that bad!" he yelled from across the room. I turned my back to him, faced the wall and took a sip of coffee, which did NOT have enough sugar in it.

Next thing I knew, he was right next to me. "I'm sorry if I offended you," he said.

I sighed. "It's okay. I'm way too sensitive." I played with the cup in my hand. "This coffee's wicked bitter."

"I agree. That's why I disguise the taste with sugar.... way too much sugar." He took the cup from me and faced the coffee area. A minute later, he turned back to me, replacing the plastic lid off the cup. "Here, try it now," he offered.

I took a sip. It was just the way I liked it- filled with so much cream and sugar that it barely counted as coffee anymore. I let myself revel in the deliciousness. "Mmm," I nearly moaned, leaning back and shutting my eyes. "Perfect."

"Really?" He took the cup from my hand and drank, quick as a blink. Wiping off his mouth with one hand, he handed back the cup with a thrilled grin and light pink to his cheeks, almost like he was surprised he'd done it. It was cute. "Come on, coffee thief. Help me back to Garcia's office. I have a few things to ask her."

He curled an arm around me obediently. Than, halfway upstairs, he gave my hip a few quick squeezes. I felt my face flush, and I gaped at him. All I saw was that shyly proud smile.

(JJ's POV)

Wow. Garcia had gotten a lot across in those few moments she'd had alone with Reid. I had thought she'd give him a few tips, but nothing like this. He was smooth, suave even. Which was not the Reid I knew. But after he tried out Garcia's advice, he blushed like a teenager. There it was, the shyness he almost always covered with facts.

The two exchanged a few words, Reid's smile never leaving his face. He really liked this girl. And it was obvious that she was just as into him, sweetly smiling at him as he flirted. It just got him more flustered. It had to be the cutest thing I'd ever seen.

I nudged Morgan with my elbow and pointed at the pair. "Hey, check this out." They were deep in conversation on the stairwell, and both of them had eyes only for each other. Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Looks like Pretty Boy finally found himself a Pretty Girl."

We watched Reid and Sera waltz awkwardly to Garcia's office, closer than they should have been. And apparently, for them, it was just right.

(And back to Sera.)

There were a few hours we killed in Garcia's office, making jokes and thoroughly abusing her computer skills. Then Spencer was called into the conference room, and I, refusing to leave his side in a building full of strange people, was once again handed his laptop to amuse myself. This time, I was given the headphones too, since they didn't want me hearing the gory details of whatever case they were working on. I looked up at the projector screen once and never did it again. I did not want to see more.

Eventually, the windows stopped filling the room with sunshine, and it was time to pack up and leave. I was excited: time to see Spencer's place. There's a lot you can tell about a guy from his home, and I was psyched for the chance to "profile" him they way he, no doubt, had done to me. Not that I minded. By now it must've become second nature to do that to every person he met. Anyways, we made our slow, arduous way to the parking garage, where I was not surprised by the neutral tan sedan Spencer led me to. We didn't talk, we were comfortable in our silence. This was something I was coming to appreciate more and more. I had always been one to lapse into bouts of silence as my mind wandered or raced. With other people, it marked me as weird. With Spencer, it seemed normal. Half the time it seemed like he was doing the same thing. Maybe he was thinking about me. Maybe I should do my best not to care one way or another.

The car was average: not a luxury model, but comfortable nonetheless. There was a half-empty water bottle in the cup holder, and a pair of empty coffee cups in the back. Generally clean, and I expected his apartment would be, too. Either because he wasn't there much, or because one person couldn't make an unreasonable mess. I'd bet it would be untidy but sanitary. It was likely that, since he knew the levels of contamination possible from every item in his household and the likelihood of him becoming ill, he kept in clean. Mess, however, is always to be expected from a person who can get so deep in thought as any genius. I knew all about that, with my 168- definitely above average- IQ. My old room at home was enormous, but managed to be constantly cluttered all the same. Which reminded me- when we got to his house, to remind Spencer to ask Hotch and Emily to send the clothes from my third, first, and sixth drawers, as well as my sneakers and boots.

There was a little pineapple air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. It made me smile. I'd have expected pine fresh, or maybe New Car. This guy always seemed to surprise me. Mismatched socks, blushing, talented lips, and now a thing for the smell of pineapple. I loved it.

Spencer, next to me, had a slight smile on his face and was biting his lip. He was an awful driver. He was obviously distracted by something, and nearly got us killed in a crash when he didn't notice the bright red light. I yelled, "HEY! Red light!" just before he'd have pulled in front of a yellow taxi that was barreling forward, way faster than the speed limit. He jerked his head up, surprised, and slammed on the break.

"I'd appreciate it if we didn't get killed before we got to your house. I mean, I understand if you're a bit embarrassed to have a teenage girl at your place for a while, but that doesn't mean you have to get us put in the hospital," I grouched at him. Until then, I hadn't realized how tired I was. There's a difference between the light sleep of sedatives and exhaustion, and the deep, healing sleep I needed to function the next day.

He glared at me out of the corner of his eye. "I was not getting us killed. I was just distracted. I would've stopped in time."

I mumbled under my breath. "Yeah, in time for us to just break all our limbs..."

He was glaring again. "What did you say?"

I returned the glare with extra venom in my voice. "I said, 'Yeah, in time for us to just break our limbs, instead of dying'. You know, I was a better driver when I was twelve than you are now!"

"Then why aren't you driving? Oh yeah, I forgot, you're ankle's broken and so is your hand! I guess for now you're just going to have to suck it up and deal with my driving!" He'd obviously lost patience.

"Then you're going to have to deal with my bitching when you nearly kill us, you- you- you nerdy little brat!" I shouted at him.

"Oh, so I'm the brat?! That's rich!" He pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex and slammed on the breaks. "Take a deep breath, Sera, and count to ten. Then help me get this up to the apartment." He got out and opened the trunk, taking out his messenger bag, laptop case, a few files and my shopping bag with the johnny in it.

I sat in my seat and scowled. I was not the one nearly killing the girl I was supposed to protect! I....

I sighed. I was the one being a brat. I shook my head at the dumb way I'd acted, then walked to Spencer, who was at the door of the building, waiting for me. I took my shopping and the laptop case, as his arms were full of files and bag. Then I smiled at him. "I'm such a brat."

"Yeah, you are." He returned the smile. "Sorry for nearly killing us." He took my hand and led me up the stairs, slowly.