And the songbirds are singing,

Like they know the score,

Charlotte's P.O.V.

After a solid twelve days in Nowhere, Wyoming, I am more than willing to go home. There is nothing here. Nothing near enough for me to do. Did you know that if you type 'fun things to do in Wyoming' on Google, Google laughs at you and shuts the window? For the entire week, All I've been doing is sitting here, in my hotel room. There are some shopping malls, but you can only shop so much. I tried finding a decent record store to no avail. I ended up just channel surfing most of the time until I found all of the Star Wars films on demand. I watched all of those a few times, because I rented each one for about two days. I also brought a book of poems, but you can only read the whole book so many times. Like I said, I'm ready to go home. This made me incredibly excited when Agent Rossi called me in and told me that his team was, once again, ready for pickup. I was a tad curious why it wasn't Hotchner calling, but I didn't ask. I was so close to calling him myself to ask how long it would have been.

"Can you have the jet ready by tonight at, say, seven?" He asks, even though I feel like it's more of a command than a question.

"Yes, sir. Absolutely. Same terminal. Same Dock."

"Sounds good. Thank you, Captain." He hangs up and I begin celebrating in my hotel room. I was finally going home! In all honesty, I didn't know how long I would have been able to last out here. I pack my bags and take a double take of the room to make sure there is absolutely nothing that I missed. I check my bag and make sure I have everything. When I'm sure I have it all, and my wardrobe is ready and fixed, I ready myself to go to the room that belonged to Captain Wiler. Fortunately, her room ended up on the very opposite wing of the floor. I have a feeling Shonda had something to do with that arrangement. When I knock, at first, there is nothing. I knock louder. Something replies. A loud thud. It sounded like she was punching the wall. When she opens the door, all I can smell are cigarettes and greasy food.

"What do you want?" She asks me. Her eyes are dark and she looks like a freshly deceased corpse, to put it nicely.

"Captain, get ready for departure. We have to ready the jet for the team so we can start flying home around seven O'clock tonight. I'm going to head over so I can get a jumpstart on preliminary objectives. Feel free to join me when you're ready.

Spencer's P.O.V.

The human minds never ceases to amaze me, and that isn't always a good thing. Something people have asked me at lectures I've taught or just in passing is if the mind of a criminal is born like that or if it's the experiences it's been through that make it the way it is. To this day, I can't give an answer to it. It seems like a certain one sometimes, but then you see it the other. It depends on the case. This one was just… odd. If I had to put a label on it, if it had been born or made, I would say that the experiences led up to it, but the potential was always there. This man was never going to be a sane man. He was never going to think like a normal person. And whether that led to him killing six people because of who they reminded him of, and getting shot in return, or if that led to him sitting alone in the middle of a personal care home without experiences to guide him to killing people, it doesn't matter. It's kind of like Schrodinger's experiment with the cat. If you leave a man in solitude in a chamber with food and water, does he go crazy, die, or stay sane? You only know when you open the chamber, and by that time, the man is no longer in solitude, and time is forced to snap and choose an option. Time, for him, chose something somewhat sadder than what could have been for him, We closed the case yesterday evening and my head is still reeling over the whole thing, just trying to understand what he must have felt. This man thought he was alone for years. He thought his family had just… left him. I clear my head as I gather my clothes in my suitcase. I'll be glad to finally get home. I think I'll stop at the bookstore on my way to the airport so I can pick up some more sudokus to do on the way home. We've been here so long, I don't have any more to do. In all honesty, the sudoku book has been done since day five. I need something to do to take my mind off the case.

After all of my bags are packed, I set out to the SUV in front of the hotel. I'm the first one there. I hop into the back seat and wait for everyone else to get their bags ready. I rarely drive us anywhere. Considering the fact that I don't do a lot of driving at home, I don't drive a lot outside of it. When I drive and I see the team's reaction to it, I get the feeling that I don't drive very well. I think I do, but being the passenger is wholly a different experience from being the passenger. I can tell that they don't want to hurt my feelings, but I don't want to hurt them. All in all, I don't mind not driving. Eventually, one by one, some of the team come over and get into the SUV. We normally take two of them. Riding with me this time are Prentiss and Derek. Hotch had to leave about halfway through the case because of some other work related business he had to do, so we just handled this one ourselves. Rossi and JJ are taking the other SUV. In all honesty, and this is just my personal opinion, I don't think Hotch should be going home during a mission if it is to do something that is not directly in his job description. However, that is his prerogative if he wants to do that. I don't think he really wants to do any of it, he's just scared of what Strauss could try to claim on him if he doesn't. I don't blame him, really.

Once everyone is in the car and we're on our way to the small airport we docked in, I ask Derek if we can stop by the bookstore on our way home.

"Pretty boy, you read books in minutes. How many books would we have to buy so you could stay busy for theentire plane ride?"

"Well, If we were averaging each book to be about 100,00 words, which would only take me five minutes to read, and I wanted a steady stream of books, and the plane ride is six hours long, that would add up to about seventy-two, give or take a few when you take into account the probable differentiates in the wind patterns when arriving in and when leaving Wyo-"

"Reid," Prentiss interrupts. "We get it. And we do not have the combined money, time, or space for you to pick out seventy-two books and bring them on the plane."

"Well, I understand. I wasn't going to pick out seventy-two. Maybe just ten." I reason, hoping to sway them.

"I'm sorry Reid, we just don't have the time. I wish I would have known you wanted to go. I would have picked up the pace." Derek says with sincerity in his voice.

"Yeah. Me, too. Sorry, Reid. We'll make it up to you next time." I nod my head. Sure, I wanted books, but I don't need them. I have my music. I'm sure that will be enough.

It wasn't enough. Don't get me wrong, my playlist is almost nine hours long, so there's no way I would run out, but ten minutes into my flight, my sudden absence of music reminds me that iPads are things that need to be charged, something I neglected to do, even if I had excess amounts of time to do it. I think about bothering Charlotte, but she's probably sick of me by now. I mean, she didn't seem so, but her co-worker didn't seem to happy. Instead of bothering her like that, I stretch my legs and lay down. I may be a tad tired after that amount of time in one location, especially since it took so long to fix. Normally, I would have a really hard time sleeping like this, normally because of my tendency to not sleep after cases because I tend to ponder over the details, but this is one of the times where the call slumber is much more powerful than normal, and I give in to it, whether I realize I'm giving in or not.

Charlotte's P.O.V.

I got the plane up in the air without a hitch. I had to do all prep work alone but in all honesty, that's how I'd prefer it. The only thing that annoyed me was that she was late and took half credit. Nobody knows I was the only one to clean up the entire thing but myself and her. She showed up fifteen minutes before the team was supposed to show up, half-dressed and miserable. She proceeded to take ten to clean herself up, and by the time the team was here, nobody could tell. As they board and shake our hands, I thought I counted one less member than last time. I realize that it was Agent Hotchner that was missing from our presence. I don't know if he's okay or not or if he was running a bit late, though I feel like I would be told if he was.

"Agent Rossi?" I ask him before he went back to sit down.

"Yes, Captain?" He asks. He seems tired, and I feel bad for bothering him, but I figure I'm not being too rude.

"Will Agent Hotchner be joining us, sir?" I asked, making sure to keep everything pleasant and polite.

"Oh, no, Captain. He had to leave early. He just booked a cheap commercial flight home instead of contacting you, because it was just him that needed transportation." I nodded and thanked him for his information. Now that I know that, I kind of almost wish that he would have called me so I could have flown him home and flown back here. I know it's not a lot, but it would have given me more to do than just lazing around in my hotel room, waiting for a cure for my boredom to strike me as it pleased.

As I head back to the cockpit, I take a deep breath. It now dawns upon me that I have to deal with Wiler for another six or seven hours. She didn't seem very pleasant to begin with this morning, so I really don't want to deal with her right now. I take a deep breath as I enter and ready the plane for takeoff.

"You okay with flying?" She says fishing a sleep mask out of her purse. As I buckle into my chair, I know I don't have a choice. However, I'd rather do my job with an incompetent coworker than say I do and be the incompetent coworker.

"Absolutely."

In all honesty, it takes longer for him to knock on the door than normal. He takes an hour or three before I hear the, what has now become standard, knocking on the door. I peek over to Wiler, but she is as fast asleep as she ever has been.

"Come in," I say, quiet enough not to wake Wiler up, but loud enough for me to hear.

"Charlotte?" Spencer calls. I smile at the windshield and tell him to come in.

"Hey. I'm sorry for bothering you, Charlotte. My iPad died, so I don't have music, and my crossword puzzles and things of the like are only interesting for so long. You wouldn't mind talking, would you? Everyone else is asleep." I laugh. Sure, the silence is nice, but I also enjoy having someone to talk to, especially when they're as polite as this guy.

"I never mind talking to you," I say, straightening up in my seat. "So what's on your mind?" I ask.

"The last case, mostly, but I don't want to talk about it much," He says, this line less enthusiastic.

"That's fine. I won't force you to share. Hmmm." I wait for a few moments in silence before coming up with something. "I have it. Okay, Dr. Reid, the fact that people call you 'doctor' instead of 'Mister' signifies that you are heavily educated in something. So, I need some advice."

"Just for clarity, those things would be Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering, with some moderate education in Psychology and Sociology. Not bragging, just clarity. What is it you need assistance with?" I laugh at his last comment and continue with my dilemma.

"Okay, so around the Aviation Unit, we have these things called Birdsongs, which are, essentially, nicknames. We call each other by our Birdsongs around the Unit or over private radio comms. These are what we are known as, and I need to come up with one by New Years. These are normally bird or flight-themed. If I don't pick one by New Years, they pick one for me, and while I don't think they hate me enough to give me a bad one, I'd like to pick my own.

"Understandable. Any preferences?"

"Not a lot. I like being different. I thought about Hermes, like the greek god. The messenger?"

"Ah, yes," He says, shifting so he can lean on the side of the entryway beside him. "The one with winged sandals. Wise choice. I'm assuming when you say that, you're expressing that the differing genders doesn't bother you." I think about it for a moment, and then I answer.

"I guess not. I guess I just didn't consider the genders. I mean, I don't think that matters much. Thor was turned into a girl for a new line of Marvel comics. No character is sacred." I take another moment. "I think the only thing that would bother me about the name 'Hermes' is that I don't want people to start calling me 'Hermey' like the Christmas elf. It makes me feel little. I am not little, nor do I have any aspirations of being a dentist." He chuckles and nods his head.

"There's always Helios, the sun god." He asks.

"Oh, yeah. Didn't he drive a chariot across the sky?" I ask, not taking my eyes off the sky, but contorting my face with each emotion I feel.

"Yes. And not only did he drive a chariot, but his chariot was the sun itself. I mean, depending on the version you quote."

"That's pretty. I like that one." He takes a few seconds to think, and then he gets an idea.

"Do you want me to help you make a list? I probably have a notepad or something back with my things-"

"That's a great Idea, but I have a small one in my bag. I think I keep it in the left side pocket. Flip past all of the grocery lists and reminders until you're at a blank page. Sorry for interrupting."

"No, it's fine." He says, already on the floor, rummaging through my things.

"I found it." He says, popping back up to tower above the rest of the cockpit.

"Ooh, try rapid fire. Write down the ones I like."

"Sure thing." He takes a breath to increase the suspense of the situation. " 3, 2, 1."

"Sparrow."

"Eh. Nice, but tiny."

"Feather."

"Feathers don't fly so much as get blown away by the wind."

"Phoenix."

"I'm digging the creativity, but that one was taken by my predecessor."

"Glaucomys"

"What?"

"Flying Squirrels. It's the preceding scientific name of both species of Flying Squirrel."

"Cute. But who could spell it?"

"True."

The entire rest of the plane ride went like that, just him listing names and me replying. It wasn't as boring as it sounds. We would laugh about the funny ones and talk in depth about the creative and clever ones. It was good accompaniment to the changing skyline in front of me. In the last few hours, the names went from serious to funny or even just random.

"You could call yourself Kirk, and then this could be the Starship Enterprise." He giggled, leaning on my seat. The notepad was on the floor now, since I hadn't heard a serious name in a while. I joined in the giggling and covered my face with one hand in playful exasperation.

"That is actually really funny. Are you as big into Star Trek as you are into Star Wars?" He smiles and takes a moment, obviously forming a response in his head.

"toH, HIja'. Hov trek qamuSHa'" I sit there in shock.

"Did you just…"

"Speak in Klingon? Why, yes I did. Do you need me to translate?" I smile widely and look back at him for a moment, and then let my eyes return to the sky.

"Sadly, I am not fluent in Klingon. I need a translation."

"No problem. I said 'Why, yes. I love Star Trek.'" I sit there in awe while he smirks down at me.

"That is… amazing. Props to you, my friend. That is really awesome."

"Why, thank you. Most people just think it's weird." I nod my head slowly, smiling warmly. I know the feeling.

"I don't. I think it's cool."I sense him straighten up, now more confident and happy to know that I don't find his talent a little unnerving. Suddenly, there's a small stirring beside us. Wiler's soft snoring is broken into choppy breaths as she awakes, her hand instinctively going to her hair and her back instantly straightening up. I can tell Spencer is trying to to laugh, but I also notice that he takes a small step back into the doorway, as if he doesn't want her to see him. I look back at him while Wiler is still rubbing at her eyes and cup my hand so she won't hear.

"Hurry, go sit down. We're landing in twenty, anyway. Live long and prosper!" He smiles and walks back to the cabin, but not before stage whispering something in response.

"qaStaHvIS yIn 'ej chep." I think I can safely assume that it was the same call, but in Klingon.

Spencer's P.O.V.

I sat on the plane and watched the landscape amble by as the last twenty minutes of the flight lasted and came to a close. The member of the team awoke one by one and readied their bags to leave. I sit in my seat and smile at the land below. While It didn't resolve my emotions surrounding the last case, talking to Charlotte really did make me feel better. On our way out, I'm the last one of the team members to get off the plane. I stop when I see Charlotte and point to her purse, which is still behind her seat in the cockpit.

"Can I see your notepad? I forgot to write one of the names down."

"Sure! Let me get it." She scurries back to her seat and fishes it out. Her copilot looks on in disapproval. Charlotte comes back and hands me the pad. I scribble down 'Starship Enterprise.' and give it back to her. She laughs and shakes her head.

"Well, It is definitely something to consider." She shakes my hand as she had done with all of the team members and looks back down at the notepad.

"Goodnight, Charlotte."

"Goodnight, Spencer."

By the time I get home, It's four in the morning, but my mind feels like it's only eleven. Unsurprisingly, my brain doesn't feel like sleeping. I head into my apartment and relax with a book. Out of all the books I have, I decide to go with a more lighthearted science fiction novel as compared to one about physics or sociology. In all honesty, it feels almost weird not to have some type of music playing. Charlotte normally doesn't have issue playing music at odd hours. I guess it's the same sort of mentality for people with hamsters, or songbirds that sing way into the night. I set the book down harder than necessary. songbird. Songbird. Charlotte is a Songbird. It's clever, concise, pronounceable, and describes herself perfectly. I don't know if I should wait until tomorrow or not. I don't know if she's working tomorrow or not, and I don't know what time she wakes up. I doubt she's sleeping. I slip into my shoes and haphazardly throw my coat onto my shoulders as I jog out of my apartment and onto the elevator. I press her floor and slip my arms into my coat, and it only now presses me that I probably didn't need to bring a coat to go to a different apartment within the same building. I find her apartment and knock on it quietly. I hear something from inside, so I'm pretty sure she's not asleep. She answers after a minute and a half of silence.

"Spencer? Hi. Is something wrong?" She asks. I suppose my urgent manner and visiting her at the time of night could allude to that.

"No. Charlotte, Songbird!" I say. She's confused, looking me up and down, making sure I'm not bleeding out, on fire, or on drugs. I try to make myself more clear.

"Your Birdsong. Why not Songbird? Short, not to hard to say, and if I say so myself, pretty clever." Her face contorts for a while, from confusion warming to conspiring, and ending in excitement.

"Songbird," She whispers down the hall in curious excitement.

"Songbird." I reassure.

"Songbird!"

"You're beginning to like it?"

"That's the best one yet! I love it! Thank you so much. I mean, not that Enterprise was a bad choice, but this one is just way more universal." I watch her glowing face beam in lit joy, and suddenly, I'm really happy that I didn't just try to find her number and call.

"I thought of it because of your music. You don't make it or sing or anything, but if people hear you doing something, it's playing music. It's you, unabashed and wholeheartedly." She seems touched by my words. She holds one of her hands to her chest as if so. She quickly brushes her hair out of her face and, once again, looks me up and down.

"Thank you, Spencer. That's very nice of you to say."

"It was a very honest thing for me to say." I don't know why I say that. Why did I say that? I hope she'll brush it off as nothing. Thankfully, she does. She checks the time on her phone and looks back at me.

"What are you still doing up?" She asks, as if she herself isn't up at this time. "It's four A.M."

"I've always had some issues with getting to sleep, especially after a case in which I had to get used to a new timezone. I have a day off tomorrow, so I figure I can catch up on my sleep then." She nods her head and gestures inside.

"I'm the same way. I don't work tomorrow, and I figured, it's already morning, so I'm just going to last until tomorrow night and crash. How were you planning on spending your wee hours of this morning?" I straighten up and look down the hall, and then back at her.

"I was reading. You?"

"It's actually kind of serendipitous that you were here. You were speaking Klingon on the flight home, and it made me want to watch Star Trek. I'm assuming you can guess what I just set up to play on Netflix."

"Star Trek?"

"Bingo! I'm actually really excited. I made popcorn and everything. But the great thing about that is that it can be paused." She says, stepping back from the door and opening it a little wider.

"Do you want to come in? Talk for a while inside instead of in the hallway? I can make you tea or something." I should say no. I've probably been intruding and she probably wants to hint that I should be leaving. Am I intruding? Does she actually want to invite me inside? Not many people have actually done that before. I try to test my boundaries, to see if she's being serious.

"I'm actually more of a coffee guy, myself." She smirks at me and opens the door wider.

"Perfect. Two cups coming up." I hesitate before I make my first step in.

"I don't think I'll need that much right away."

"Obviously. I need a cup for myself." She jokes. I finally decide that, yes, Charlotte does actually want to invite me inside, and that, no, I'm not bothering her. This is the type of thing that friends do. I think Charlotte is my friend. In all honesty, it's a weird feeling. I haven't made a real new friend since I joined the BAU.

"Any suggestions on good episodes I can watch? I mean, I've already gone through them all. I just can't decide."

"Well, every episode is good," I say, my eyes darting from the television to the rest of her apartment. I know I should have seen this coming, but it has an eerily similar structure to my own. "I can really appreciate the contrast of Shatner's Picard to Stewart's Kirk in between series. Personally, I feel like Patrick Stewart was a better actor and overall character. Shatner just seemed to overreact to a lot of stuff. Not that I didn't like the original series. I just enjoy one better than the other." She nods as she's making the coffee.

"I feel that." She stops in her tracks and looks over at me.

"Do you want to watch some? We can pick an episode and watch and talk about them. You're fun to talk to, especially when concerning things like this. If you don't, I get it. I mean, I just thought it would be fun. If you wanted to go back, I woul-"

"Sure! Can we start at the beginning? I like the establishing plot points, even if they're not as good or intricate as the ones in later seasons. Also, do you have any hand sanitizer?" She returns from the kitchen where the coffee maker is already whining and numbers her replies in her hands.

"Yes, we can start at the beginning. I agree with the point about the plot points. And no, I don't think I have sanitizer. I have antibacterial hand soap in my bathroom. Is that good enough?" It's not my favorite, but it's better than nothing.

"Yep. I'll be back. Thanks for the coffee, Charlotte."

"It was nothing."

Charlotte's P.O.V.

I think I made a friend today. Yes, that's what this feels like. I made a friend. A real one.