Emily woke with a smile on her face as she stretched out. It was her first day at her new job. It's going to be a good day, she thought. It wasn't her old job, but it was something to keep her mind busy and fill the void, so she was excited. Rolling over, Emily peeked at the time, her body tensing as she did.

"Shit!" she swore. She had overslept.

How was that even possible? Since being in prison, her body became conditioned to wake at six, never failing her, until now. But as a precaution she had set the alarm so why didn't it go off? She checked the alarm and saw that she had accidentally set the damn thing for PM instead of AM.

"Shit!" she swore again.

Throwing the covers off, she hurried into the bathroom, rushing through her morning routine and quickly throwing on the clothes she left out the previous night. Why? Why of all days did this have to happen today? By the time she was done dressing, she knew a full breakfast was out of the question. If she wanted to catch the bus to the subway and make it to work on time, she had to dash.

She paused in the kitchen doorway. But…what about the coffee? She sadly asked herself. No time. Emily grabbed a piece of fruit out of the fruit bowl, took up her bag and keys and ran out of the house as quickly as she could, all the while pleading with herself not to be late.

In her mad scramble not to lose her job before she even started, Emily failed to notice Dave and Mudgie standing in the kitchen. Dave had a spatula in one hand and a surprised look on his face. He heard her clattering down the stairs and turned from the stove, intending to ask what she wanted for breakfast, but she blew in and out so fast, he didn't get a chance.

Lowering the spatula, he grinned down at the dog who wagged his tail uncertainly. "Looks like someone is excited to get to work."

Emily reached the bus just as the door was closing. She pounded on the door to get the driver to open it back up. When he did, she bounded up the steps, profusely thanking him as she swiped her Metro card through the reader. She collapsed into the first available seat as the bus jerked into motion, afraid she was going to pass out if she didn't catch her breath soon. She had planned on taking jogging back up, but sprinting to catch the bus the first time out wasn't exactly easing into the run routine like recommended. I think I'm going to die. I survived five years of prison only to die on a bus?

"Are you all right, dearie?" her elderly seatmate asked in concern.

"I'm…fine. Just…a little…winded," she wheezed between breaths.

"Here. Take this." She pressed a bottle of water into Emily's hand.

"I couldn't…"

"You need it more than me. Drink up."

Emily nodded her thanks, unscrewed the cap and downed half of its contents. Then she pressed the bottle to her sweat slick brow, relishing the feel of the coolness of the still cold water against her hot skin.

"Did that hit the spot?" the woman asked after a minute.

"It did," Emily agreed, opening her eyes. "But now I feel guilty taking your only bottle of water. The least I can do is to pay for it." She reached into her bag for some money.

The elderly woman dismissed the offer with a soft chuckle and a wave of her wrinkled hand. "Nonsense. I have another one in my purse and besides; you looked like you could use the water more than I did. You were running really fast."

"I haven't run that fast in years and it shows," Emily admitted with a rueful smile. "My morning hasn't gotten off to a great start."

"It will get better, dearie."

"Oh, god. I certainly hope so."

Emily's day did seem to get better. The bus arrived at the subway station ahead of schedule, allowing her to rustle up a large cup of coffee and a sinfully delicious brownie before catching her train. She didn't realize how much she missed real coffee until she had a cup of Dave's imported coffee beans after five years of instant coffee brewed in her cell with a hot pot. Like the powdered eggs, she didn't want to see another packet of instant coffee for as long as she lived.

The train arrived on time, already packed to the gills with other people on the way to work. Emily squeezed her way in, standing with her back to the door and one arm wrapped around the pole to maintain her balance. Brownie long gone, she sipped on her coffee and let the clacking of the wheels and the swaying of the car lull her into a state of reflection.

You could have knocked Emily over with a feather when Laura, her Unit Counselor, happily informed her that she had gotten the tutoring position.

"Ho…how?" she stammered, blinking in disbelief.

"Gretchen was very impressed with your interview."

"Really?"

Emily scratched her head in confusion, having a hard time believing that. She had gone out of her way, short of saying she didn't want the damn job, to sabotage the interview. She was on the surly side, only answering any questions with the bare minimum and doing her best to project an air of disinterest. Any other interviewer would have shown her the door, but apparently not Gretchen. The woman must be immune to uncooperative inmates. Damn! She had been so sure she hadn't gotten the job.

"Really. I've already put in the paperwork to switch your work detail to the Education Department. You're to report to Gretchen first thing Monday morning."

"I…I don't know what to say."

"I know. It's quite a surprise." Laura stood up and Emily automatically followed suit. "Congratulations, Emily," she said, holding out her hand. "You'll make a fine tutor."

"Uh…thanks," she absently returned the handshake.

Emily was still in a daze when she left Laura's office and reentered the common area of her cellblock, oblivious to some of the taunts tossed her way. Even though she had earned the respect of her fellow inmates, it didn't fully stop the snide comments. Everyone knew she was a disgraced agent and constantly reminded her of the fact by calling her Fed-ex. She sat at one of the empty tables and gazed out the barred windows, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she has successfully gotten a job she never wanted in the first place. Now she was stuck with it. If she tried to refuse it, it could end up on her record and possibly reduce her chance at parole. Getting the hell out of here in less than ten years was her only goal, besides surviving being in prison, and she wasn't about to do anything to jeopardize it.

Promptly at seven am Monday morning, Emily presented herself to Gretchen Wolfe, the Literacy Coordinator. The woman was glad to see her and introduced her to the other twenty-three inmate tutors. She expected to receive her normal disdain from them, but they were cordial to her, falsely assuming she was there for the same reasons they were. To help their fellow inmates better themselves and become contributing members of society. While they might have voluntarily applied for the position, Emily had essentially been forced into it.

But before she could start her unwanted new job, Emily first had to complete forty hours of specialized training that would lead to her certification as a tutor. From there she would work one on one with the other inmates to increase their reading levels and help them with their studying to get their GED's. Of course, Emily being Emily, graduated at the top of her class, but then she was the only one in her class. She also got a nice bump in pay from ninety cents to a whole dollar an hour.

The following Monday Emily received her tutoring assignments and instead of feeling excited at the prospect of helping her fellow inmates, she felt like she was in over her head. When she had helped Gina and Kayla, it hadn't been out of the goodness of her heart. She only wanted to keep Gina from touching her stuff and to stop Kayla from following her around like a lost puppy. Kayla still hung around, but it wasn't as bad as before.

Now the job was a mandate. It wasn't something she did for her own reasons, but whether she wanted to or not, she had to do it. Sure, she would be helping others and that would feel good, but it would also remind her about what she wasn't doing, about the job she no longer had, and the people who no longer talked to her.

At first, that was all she could think of. She viewed the tutor job as a chore, and it was a process before her perspective changed. Soon, though, she realized that it helped pass time. Emily was good at it, and, in a world where she was a target, it was nice to have something safe to pass time and not be alone. It was also nice to be in a power position. She had a commodity that a lot of the girls there needed, and that worked in her favor. It didn't take long for her view to become more altruistic.

The more she worked with these girls, many of them underprivileged and never given a chance to learn, the more she felt a sense of pride and accomplishment in her work. She wasn't saving lives really, but she was giving these girls a chance at a life when they got out of there. Thinking of like that made her enjoy the work. If she was stuck in there, she was going to make the most of it, and tutoring would help with that.

The screeching of wheels filled the air as the train came to an abrupt stop, jerking the unsuspecting passengers forward. Those standing tightened their grips on the poles and overhead railing to maintain their balance.

"Shit!" Emily swore as some of her coffee sloshed over the rim and on to her hand, bringing her back to the present.

Groans of frustration echoed around her when the driver announced there was a slight delay, but they would be on their way shortly. It wasn't panic time yet for Emily. A quick glance at her watch told her she still had plenty of time to get to work even with the small delay. True to his word, the train was back on the move within minutes, but not at the same speed it had been traveling at before. It limped into the next station and things only got worse from there. Another train had broken down further along the track and they didn't know how long the delay would be.

Emily swore again. Her day was supposed to be getting better, not going in the opposite direction. If was just her luck that breakdown happened two stations from her next stop. If she remained here waiting for service to resume, she would definitely be late for work. Decision made, she exited the train, took the steps two at a time to street level and booked it. This time it wasn't a mad dash, but a steady jog. Either way, by the time Emily got to work with five minutes to spare, her lungs were burning and her legs felt like jelly. Yup. I'm definitely out of shape. I'll have to do something about it tomorrow if I don't die of a heart attack today, she thought as she bent over, hands on knees to catch her breath.

"Emily, are you okay?"

It was her new boss, Anders Gunnarson. Emily shot upright, giving him an embarrassed smile as she brushed back a wayward lock of hair off her sweaty brow. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" he asked in concern, taking in the heavy breathing, flushed face and mussed hair.

"Positive. I just ran here."

"All the way from home?" He knew her driver's license was suspended, but there were easier ways to get around the city than jogging.

"No," she said though it felt like she had and quickly explained about the subway delays. "I didn't want to be late and make a bad impression on my first day of work."

He was sympathetic. "I can understand that." He held opened the door for her. "Well you made it so let me give you the grand tour."

Anders guided her through the law firm, pointing out what he thought interesting and introducing her to whomever they ran into. There were so many names swirling in her head that she figured it was going to take her a week to get them straight and attached to the correct faces. Eventually they ended up in the records department where she would be working and introduced her to Miranda, the very pregnant head records clerk.

"This is Melinda and the head honcho here," he teased. "She's expecting her third child in two weeks."

"If I can last that long," she chuckled softly as she ran a hand over her swollen belly. Emily silently agreed with the woman's assessment. She looked like she could give birth any minute.

"She's going to handle your training so that you'll be ready to fly solo when she finally goes on maternity leave."

"I'll do my best," Emily said, shaking hands with the expectant mother.

"That's all I need," Anders said with a smile. "Now I'll leave you ladies to it. Have fun."

Emily waited for him to leave before asking, "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"

Melinda shook her head. "No. We want to be surprised, but secretly I'm hoping for a girl. We already have two boys and it would be fun to buy pretty and frilly dresses for a change."

"Then I hope you have a girl to spoil."

"Thank you. Anders told me the job you held before going to prison required a good eye for detail."

"It did," Emily agreed and left it at that. She wasn't sure how much he had told Melinda about her past so she thought it was best not to divulge any further details in case he didn't say anything beyond that she was an convicted felon.

"Good. Then this job should be easy for you once you learn all the ins and outs."

"I'm a quick study."

"Then lets get on it."

The morning passed by in a whirlwind of facts, figures, procedures and a ton of paper. Tree friendly Penelope would have had a cow if she saw how paperwork a single case and a law firm could generate. Emily couldn't get it much thought because she was too busy trying to process all the intricacies of being a records clerk. It was more complicated than she imaged and a bit overwhelming. Her first day on the job jitters didn't help either so she was very relieved when lunchtime rolled around. The hour break would give her some time to decompress and get her thoughts into some kind of rudimentary order. It was then that it hit her that in her mad dash to catch the bus, she forgot the lunch she packed the night before.

She was about to go off in search of food when she ran into Anders who was holding a small black bag that seemed vaguely familiar. "It seems someone forgot their lunch at home," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Sweet, good old Dave. Only he would drive out of his way to drop off her lunch so that she wouldn't starve and pass out at work. "Guilty as charged," she said, coloring slightly in embarrassment as she took the lunch bag from him.

"How's it going so far?"

"Fine…I think. There's a lot to learn."

"You'll get the hang of it."

"I just hope I do before Melinda's baby comes," she said with a chuckle.

"I'm sure you will."

As he turned to go, Emily called out his name. There was something she wanted to talk to him about. She had planned to do it at the end of the day after she put in her full eight hours, but since he was right there, she might as well get it over with.

"Anders, I know I shouldn't be asking this, especially on my first day, but I was wondering if I can come in at noon tomorrow? I promise I'll make up the time by staying late or coming in on my day off."

"It is unusual, Emily," he conceded, warning bells going off in his head that he has made a mistake in hiring her. She wasn't the first ex-con to ask for special accommodations and it wasn't something he tolerated. "May I ask why?"

"I have to see my parole officer at eleven."

"Don't you just have to check in with him by phone?"

She shook her head. "No. Believe me that I wish I could, but he requires a weekly face to face. When I got this job, I called him to see if he could switch our meetings to my day off, he told me if I wasn't in his office at my appointed time, he would revoke my parole and send me back to prison." Emily couldn't keep the annoyance out of her voice. "He was on my back for weeks about getting a job and when I finally do land one, he wants me to miss time. Go figure."

Ah, so that's the reason behind her request, he thought. As he told Emily during her interview that he was aware of her parole officer's less than sterling reputation. Holland enjoyed the power he held over the ex-cons unluckily assigned to him. He could revoke their parole for the smallest infraction because he could and that most of his clients couldn't fight it since they couldn't afford a lawyer to do the fighting for them. Well, he was in a position to remedy that. When a request was reasonable and sound, he had no problem with being accommodating.

"Let me see what I can do about that."

Emily smiled in relief; happy that he didn't think she had overstepped her boundaries on her first day of work. Nothing endeared you more to your employer by being difficult and demanding. "Thanks, Anders. I really appreciate it, but you really don't need to trouble yourself…"

He held up a hand to forestall any further protests she may have. "It's not a problem, Emily. Parole officers just love hearing from their client's lawyers."

Her eyes widened. "You're my lawyer?"

"I am for as long as you remain in my employment."

"I…I don't know what to say," she stammered. She honestly was at a loss for words. Anders' offer to help with her little problem was completely unexpected. She figured he would keep his distance until her probationary period was over and he knew she could be trusted.

"I wouldn't spend too much time trying to find your words, otherwise you won't have enough time to eat your lunch," he teased.

Emily liked her new boss's sense of humor and it made her want to do an even better job for him. "Got it."

The afternoon passed just as quickly as the morning had and just when Emily felt she was starting to get the hang of things, it was time to call it a day and go home. She was tired, physically and mentally, but it was the good kind of tired. It meant that she worked hard today and it left her with a sense of accomplishment. Tomorrow should be even better because she now had a better understanding of the job.

Anders' secretary poked her head into the room. "Emily, Anders would like to see you before you leave for the day."

"Uh…sure. I'll be right there."

After casting a worried look in Melinda's direction, Emily gathered up her things and hurried off to his office, a knot growing in the pit of her stomach. It had to be bad news. The phone call to her asshole of a parole officer must not have gone well. Holland must've refused to move their weekly appointment to another day or time, leaving her new employer with no choice to fire her because he couldn't afford having her missing work every week. Shit. Fired only after one day on the job. This would be a new record for her.

She tentatively knocked on the open door. "You wanted to see me?"

"I did," he said gravely and gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. "Please have a seat."

Nervously Emily slid into the nearest one. I'm totally screwed. He's going to fire me.

Anders leaned forward, resting his clasped hand on the desk blotter. "I had a long talk with Mr. Holland."

"And?" she asked hesitantly, wondering how much her parole officer had badmouthed her. He didn't like her and the feeling was mutual.

His face broke into a smile. "Your parole officer is an asshole."

Relief swept through her. If he was smiling and joking with her, then everything wasn't as bad as she was making it out to be. Prison took away a lot of her self-confidence and self worth, treating her like she was less than a person. It was going to take her time to get them back.

"You're not going to get any argument from me."

"Your appointment with him has been changed to Wednesdays. Holland was annoyed and wanted to punish you by moving the time you have to report to him to two o'clock to mess up your day off. I quashed the idea and moved the time back to ten. Does that work for you?"

"It does. I can get him out of the way early and enjoy the rest of my day. Thank you for tackling that. I know it wasn't easy."

"It was my pleasure. I've always enjoyed a good fight. That's why I became a lawyer."

"I thought helping people would be the main reason you became a lawyer?" she asked with a fake frown.

"That too," he agreed with a grin. Then in a blink of an eye, the all business side replaced the humorous side of him. "If Holland continues to make what you perceive to be unreasonable demands, do as he says so you won't get into trouble, but let me know immediately. I'll get you reassigned to another parole officer who actually wants you to succeed and become a functioning member of society."

Apparently it was a slow day at the BAU because Dave beat her home. He must also have been on the lookout for her because he jerked the door open just as she was inserting the key into the lock. The momentum caused her to stumble forward.

"Thanks for the warning, Dave," Emily scolded as she righted herself with the help of his hand under her elbow.

"Sorry, Emily. I just wanted to know how your first day at work went," he apologized.

"You could have waited for me to get into the house before starting the interrogation."

"It's a mansion, not a house."

"Whatever," she said with a roll of her eyes as she dropped her stuff on the coffee table.

"So?" he pressed.

"So what?" she shot back, pretending she had no clue what he was referring to just to pay him back for almost making her fall flat on her face walking in the door.

Dave tried to keep his exasperation from showing. When he had dropped off her lunch, he couldn't resist the urge to peek in to see how she was doing. Of course, he didn't blatantly poke his head into the records room, but discretely peered around the doorjamb. What he saw pleased him. The focus she used to give to their cases was being applied to learning the ins and outs of her new job. But if Emily ever finds out he was checking up on her, she would kill him. He didn't want that to happen because he wasn't in the mood to be dead and it would definitely get Emily's parole revoked and another twenty to thirty years tacked onto her original sentence.

"So how did you day go? This morning you seemed excited to get to work."

"More like panicked," she snorted, dropping into the nearest chair and bending over to unzip her boots.

"Stop! Don't do that," Dave said suddenly, stepping forward and waving his hands at her.

Emily froze, left boot still on her foot and the right one in her hand. "What's the matter with you, Dave? You're acting weird. Why can't I take my boots off?" she asked in confusion.

"Because we're going out to dinner to celebrate."

"Celebrate? Celebrate what?"

"Your new job. We couldn't do it the day you got it because the team and I had to go to Fresno for the serial arsonist, but tonight we can."

"Couldn't we do it here?" Emily tried to beg off. "It's been a long day. I'm tired and my feet are sore from all the running I did."

Now it was his turn to look confused. "Running?"

"It's a long story."

"Then you can regale us over a fine meal not cooked by yours truly. The reservation has been made and Penelope is meeting us at the restaurant. What do you say, Emily?"

Now that she thought about it, it didn't sound too bad. A nice restaurant, fine food and the companionship of the only two friends she had left in the world would be the perfect ending to a day that had started off so badly. But then, a nice long soak in the tub with a good book would also do the trick.

Emily shoved the boot back on her foot. "Lets do it."