Disclaimer: I own nothing except Jemma.

It takes one person to forgive, it takes two people to be reunited. - Lewis B. Smedes

Jemma sighed as she pushed the cart of books down the rows of shelves. This had to be her least favourite part of her otherwise perfect job. What she really wanted was to be sitting behind the front desk with her feet up, studying for her mid-terms. She was re-shelving some romance novel when she heard someone clear their throat behind her. She spun around to see a teenage boy, no older than seventeen.

"Can I help you?" Jemma asked the boy.

"Yeah." he mumbled, shuffling his feet. "I-I-I'm l-looking f-for n-n-nonfiction."

"Oh, OK." Jemma smiled. "I'm terrible with directions, so I'll just show you where they are."

The boy looked up at her from under his dark brown hair and flashed her a quick smile before diverting his eyes again.

"Here we are." Jemma said, having lead the boy to the beginning of the non fiction section of the library. "Were you looking for anything in particular?"

"Y-y-yeah." the boy stuttered. "Ch-Charles Manson and T-T-Ted B-Bundy."

"Serial killers, huh?" Jemma said, trying to ignore how much this distressed her are she scanned the shelves with the shy teenager.

She found a couple biographies on Charles Manson and pulled them off of the shelf. "So, what do you find so interesting about serial killers?" she asked.

The boy shrugged.

"Are you interested in profiling?" Jemma persisted.

"What's profiling?" the boy asked, glancing up from under his hair.

Jemma laughed for a second, putting him on edge. "I forgot that most people don't know. It's uh... it's using psychology to catch a criminal. Some friends of mine do it for a living, they work for the FBI, their unit's called the BAU."

"Really?" the boy asked, sitting down at a table. "So they f-figure out wh-why people k-kill and stuff?"

Jemma sat down beside him. "Yeah, I guess so." she replied. "I'm Jemma by the way."

"Ben Creighton."

"Hey, Ben." Jemma waved to the quiet teenager as he entered the library.

"H-hi, Jemma." he mumbled, heading to the shelves that contained the biographies he was interested in.

Jemma watched as he selected a title then sat in his usual chair and began to read. When the boy read, he got this look on his face like Spencer did when he was concentrating on something. Jemma could not imagine what could possibly make someone so interested in serial killers. To her, it did not matter why someone had killed her family, it only mattered that the bastard got what he deserved. She could understand how a profile could help catch a killer, but why would someone enjoy reading about it?

She was worried about Ben. Something about the teen just did not seem right. Why was he at the library reading about serial killers when he should be hanging out with his friends? Ben Creighton must have the loneliest life Jemma had ever seen. She decided she would try to befriend him. She herself had quite a lonely existence and since she was so close to Ben's age maybe she could offer him the guidance of an older sister.

Jemma took a deep breath and walked toward Ben.

"Hey, Hotch." JJ said, standing in the doorway to his office. "We just got a call."

Hotch looked up from his desk. "What is it?"

"There's a hostage situation in DC." JJ said, entering the room.

"Why did they call us?" Hotch asked.

"The kid who took the hostages demanded to talk to the BAU." JJ replied.

"Kid?" Hotch repeated.

JJ nodded. "Yeah, Ben Creighton, he's only sixteen."

"Alright, get everyone in the conference room." Hotch said.

Ten minutes later the agents of the BAU were sitting around the table, waiting to be briefed on the case.

"What's going on, Hotch?" Morgan asked, seeing the worried look on his boss's face.

"We've got a hostage situation in DC." Hotch said as JJ handed the profilers each a file.

"Ben Creighton," JJ said, showing the team a picture of the dark haired, pimple faced teen. "Sixteen years old and has twelve hostages at the DC public library."

Reid and Prentiss exchanged a worried look. Their fears were confirmed when live video footage came across the screen, courtesy of Garcia's excellent hacking skills. Sitting on the floor with both arms wrapped protectively around her abdomen was Jemma. Reid felt a pain in his chest when he saw Jemma say something to Creighton only to have a gun pointed in her face.

"Hey, isn't that Jemma?" JJ asked.

"Yeah, she works there." Prentiss replied.

The team looked at the screen then looked accusingly to Reid.

"Can we just go to DC and stop this?" he asked, hoping to divert the attention from himself.

The profilers sprung into action and hurried out of the conference room.

"Are you alright, Ben? Do you need to talk to someone?"

It had been a simple question. Jemma was only trying to help. She had no idea that Ben Creighton would pull out a gun and take her and eleven other people hostage. Instinctively, Jemma's hands went to her belly and she sat on the floor with the other hostages in silence.

Jemma was nearly paralysed with fear. All she could think of was protecting her baby. She tried to reason with Ben a couple times, begging him to let her go, telling him that he was a good person and that he could get help if he let everyone go, but each time she got a gun pointed in her face.

The phone rang, the one on which Ben had been communicating with the police. He kept his gun on the hostages and picked up the receiver.

"Hello, Ben?" Jemma could hear a familiar voice on the other end of the line. "My name's Aaron Hotchner, I work for the FBI. Why did you want to speak to me and my team, Ben?"

"T-tell me what's wrong w-with me!" Ben yelled into the phone.

"Listen Ben, if you let everyone go, you can have a psych-eval done, OK?"

"No!" Ben yelled and hung up the phone.

"So he wants us to profile him?" Prentiss clarified when Hotch hung up the phone.

"Looks that way." Hotch replied.

"OK, so what do we know about him?" Rossi said.

The profilers thought for a moment before Hotch said, "He has a stutter."

"And we should profile him like a school shooter." Morgan suggested.

"Which means he's a loner." Reid said.

"And that stutter definitely didn't help him in terms of socializing." Prentiss said.

"Or with girls." Rossi added.

Sometimes it worried Hotch that his team could finish eachother's sentences like this. The profilers definitely spent an unhealthy amount of time together. At a time like this though, he appreciated their quick, collaborative thinking, it would get them a home a lot faster and hopefully they could prevent anyone from getting hurt.

"So if we just tell him what's wrong with him, he'll let Je- everyone go?" Reid asked hopefully.

"I don't think so." Rossi replied. "In a hostage situation, the hostages are used as leverage to get whatever he wants. He could easily have gone to a shrink to find out what's wrong with him and probably already has. What he wants is for us to tell him what he wants to hear."

"And what does he want to hear?" Prentiss asked.

"If he's already been diagnosed by a psychologist, and the diagnosis was something to make him take twelve hostages, he wants to know if what the shrink said is true." Reid said. "He wants to know if he'll act on his urges to kill."

"It's just like Nathan Harris." Morgan said. "It's not a question of if he'll kill, but when."

"Nathan Harris didn't kill anyone though." Reid defended.

"But he tried to kill himself." Morgan reminded him, as if he really needed the images of Nathan Harris bleeding to death in front of him to flash through his head right now.

"OK, back to Creighton." Hotch ordered. "So he wants to know whether or not he'll kill someone."

"And what's the answer to that question?" Morgan asked.

"Like you said," Rossi replied. "It's not a question of if he'll kill, but when."

"So what do we tell him?" Morgan asked.

Before Hotch could stop him, Reid was on the phone with Creighton.

Jemma felt her heart flutter when she heard Spencer's voice come through the phone. She could not believe that after kicking him out of Emily's apartment she'd be so happy to hear his voice.

"Hi, Ben. My name's Spencer Reid, I work for the FBI." she could hear him say. "I know that you know what's wrong with you. I know that you just want to know if you're going to act on your urges and actually kill someone. Ben, you're a good guy, I know you won't hurt any of those hostages."

"N-no, y-you're wrong." Ben stuttered. "I have to k-k-kill them, I have to."

"Well, Ben, I don't believe you." Spencer said. "I don't think you can kill anyone."

"Shut up!" Ben spat into the phone. "Yes I can!"

"Well you haven't killed anyone yet, Ben." Spencer taunted.

What the heck are you doing Spencer? Jemma thought. You're such an idiot, why do you even open your mouth?

"Shut up! Watch me!" Ben yelled then turned and pointed his gun at Jemma.

Jemma screamed as she stared down the barrel of the gun. So this was how it would end. She regretted fighting with Spencer. All she wanted now was for him to be by her side, to save her like he did the last time she was staring death in the eye. He was all she had now and she wished she had not pushed him away like she had.

There was a gunshot and the sound of a body hitting the floor.

"Spencer!" Jemma exclaimed, running toward him with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Spencer wrapped his arms loosely around the shaken redhead, trying as hard as he could to avoid the emerging bump on her abdomen. His actions contradicted every emotion he felt right now, but he still was not comfortable with Jemma's pregnancy.

Jemma did not say anything, she probably did not even notice Spencer distancing himself and pressed herself against him as hard as she could.

"I'm sorry, Spencer." she sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

Jemma wished her words could erase the pain of the horrible things she had said, more so in herself than in him.

"Shhh... It's alright." he soothed her, rubbing her back. "You didn't do anything wrong." Except not accept his logic of course.

"I... I thought my last words to you were going to be 'I hate you.'" Jemma mumbled into his shoulder.

"Actually, the last thing you said to me was 'Get out.'" Spencer said. "And you never told me you hated me, you just told me to die." As if those facts could make Jemma feel any better. Of course Reid did not understand that he would upset her more, he always stated facts before he dealt with emotion before Jemma came along.

"I'm sorry." Jemma sobbed harder, wishing she had not heard the pain in Spencer's voice when he reminded her what she had wished upon him.

"No, it's OK, Jem. I'm sorry too, but you-"

A hand came out of nowhere and held Reid's mouth shut.

"Watch what you say, Reid." Prentiss said. "Don't forget you're surrounded by people with guns." She removed he hand and walked away to give the couple some privacy, but they could both still feel her watching over Jemma protectively, ready to intervene if Reid screwed up again.

"I'm sorry, Jem, I'm sorry." Spencer said. "I've missed you, Jem, please just come home."

There was no point in trying to force his logic down Jemma's throat. He had missed her too much, all he wanted was for her to be back where she belonged, with him. Reid might have been no better off with women than when he had first met Jemma, but one thing he had learned was that when dealing with her, emotions outweighed facts in any argument.

"Home?" Jemma repeated, looking up at him with watery eyes.

"My place." Spencer confirmed.

"But..." Jemma did not know how to phrase her question. Was Spencer finally accepting the baby as his now, or had he completely forgotten? Jemma hoped that he was going to accept her pregnancy. As the situation became realer and realer every day, she had begun to think that she could not do this on her own. Even if she could, she was lonely without him.

"I don't know, Jem." Spencer said, as if he had read her mind. "We'll figure it out though. I need you, that's all I know right now."

It was rare that Spencer Reid ever admitted that he did not know the answer to something. Jemma smiled and tightened her grip on him. Maybe this might actually work out.

"Thank you, Spencer." she whispered. "Can we go now? I've got Ben Creighton's brains all over my shirt."

Reid let her go quickly and examined himself for remnants of the trouble teenager. When he concluded that he was clean, he looked at Jemma, whose purple top was cover in pink and red goo. He took off his jacket and offered it to her. Jemma removed the shirt to reveal a tight white camisole that barely covered her belly. She quickly put on Spencer's jacket and returned to his arms.

The team, noticing that the intimate moment between the two had ended, joined them by the side of the Suburban. Jemma turned her body in toward Spencer, hoping to cover up the swollen bump on her stomach. She knew the trouble Spencer could get in if the team saw and by the look on Hotch's face, he was in enough trouble right now.

"I think we're going to head home now, guys." Reid said.

"Not so fast," Hotch ordered. "What you just did was incredibly stupid, Reid. Creighton could have killed everyone in there."

"But he didn't. I knew he'd get angry and try when I told him he couldn't, then the sniper would have a chance to take him out." Reid explained.

"That's still the dumbest thing you've ever done." Morgan said.

"It worked though, didn't it?"

The profilers all rolled their eyes at the genius and piled into the two SUVs.

A/N: Yay! Reunited! But is this the end of the problems for Reid and Jemma? Oh course not, it's me, what did you expect? Haha. Seriously though, this is just the beginning.

Oh, so I found myself a prom date. I'm so excited. Now all I need is to figure out our ride and I'm all set.

Anyway, please review. I always love to know what my readers think of my stories. I have anonymous reviews enabled too if you don't have an account and are just dropping by. So yeah, I'd love to hear from you all.

Au revoir!