A/N: I do believe next chapter is the initiation of a large event. Actually, next chapter is the final full sized chapter left.

Reviews would be heavily appreciated. Especially reviews surrounding Holly. It does take away from the canon, but Holly is set to play a huge role in the sequel, and you'll see why later. Which brings me to saying... Friday, I am updating the final two chapters back to back since they are so short. Depending on whatever you, the readers, say... I can upload the prologue to the sequel along with the other two chapters because I wasn't planning on uploading the sequel until November until I was able to sit down and get a solid eight chapters on the computer. Either way, I'm going to create a chapter on this story, linking it to the sequel.

PM or review, which reviewing you don't even have to log in to do.

Thank you for staying with me for almost thirty some chapters :) and enjoy!

Oh... And to the guest who commented on 10/10, since I can't message, when you do see this, Spencer and Flo have this loving-annoyance relationship. Also, the chapter you reviewed for, Chapter 7, just shows how Florence isn't scared to voice herself against Spencer. If anyone has any questions, ask me please, because I know I'm a tad bit vague at times.

Without further or due... Chapter 29!


"I find that much of my family doesn't share my blood." ~Unknown


Holly woke me up in the morning. Given that she was simply getting a glass of water. This prompted me to rouse up, "Hey, Holly, could you grab a couple of these please?" I called into the kitchen.

Without a word, she began taking bag after bag to Harrison's old bedroom; I personally took the pink duffel so she wouldn't have the chance to be left alone with it. Once the task was completed, I discarded the pink bag off to the side. Holly began ripping open suitcases and trying to sort herself out so I wouldn't have a chance to see the clothing she had. "Calm down, let's sit and talk," I tried to make peace with her.

"There's nothing to talk about," Holly snapped, opening drawers.

"How about you tell me what you want?" I tried a power play. Her eyes twinkled for a solitary second before they narrowed once more and glared a thousand daggers.

Holly tapped her chin mockingly, "All of it."Shaking my head, I watched her 'badass' façade slip away. "Fine, what are your, guidelines?" she spat.

"Dresses cannot be shorter than fingertip length, or they can't be shorter than mid thigh," I pronounced. Holly shrugged, it didn't affect her. "Skirts can't be see through, and they can't be shorter than dresses."

"I'm going to argue that later, but continue," Holly smirked.

Furrowing my brow, I commented, "I don't doubt it." Holly laughed, her violet eyes watering with happiness for the first time, I suspected, in a very long time. "Shirts cannot be worn without a bra, and if it's see through, it cannot be worn without a tank top. Also, if you can help it, I don't want your bra to be poking out from the top of your shirt. And absolutely no spandex as shorts worn in public."

"How about skirts having an inseam of four inches?" Holly questioned, trying to model one for me. In all honesty, it was only a little bit sluttish, nothing too terribly bad.

In fact, if she wore a nice shirt that didn't have her boobs hanging out of them, she'd look approachable. Approachable in the sense of 'clean' rather than 'I have seven STD's.' "That's as short as I can stand. Also, shorts must have an inseam of three inches, and your asscheek can't be falling out," I replied.

Holly grinned, beginning to unload the clothing. Moving myself over to help her, she smiled brightly. "How old are you Flo?" Holly questioned.

"Twenty two," I snickered. Holly nodded in agreement as she reached into a far corner of the suitcase. She placed an orange bottle in my palm. It was stuffed to the brim of white power—a full stamp of heroin. "Thank you, Holly, it's the right thing to do," I blushed. When I was sixteen I wouldn't have handed over my heroin. Holly even tossed over a bag of needles.

I still watched over her, making sure her palms were empty. About half way through the second suitcase, with two full dressers and a half full closet, Holly cleared her throat, "You really aren't that bad, this is the first place I've actually felt safe."

Tears brimmed at my eyes, "Thanks," I mustered, "I'm glad I finally get to meet you." This was by far one of the most dangerous places she's ever been. Holly is so blind to what I could do just by being in association with her. It's quite scary.

Another brave thing Holly did, she tossed me the bag I knew contained the drugs and left the room. When I opened the bag, her sheets and quilt and such she brought for comfort laid over top of at least seven other pill bottles full of variants of heroin. There was marijuana as well, along with fetanyl and countless pills, needles, and papers to roll joints with. How was I going to get rid of all of this stuff? There were at least several hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars in this bag alone. I'd have to bury it, scatter the powder, something.

After thoroughly emptying the illicit substances, I realized I could simply mix the heroin all together and pour it outside. So that's what I did. Draining half of the water bottle I had, I began mixing together the first bottle. I'd need at the very least four more bottles of water.

So I brought the loot upstairs, telling her that her room was clean to my knowledge. Holly said that it was and I had to believe her. Bringing down a large pitcher, I mixed the entire heroin together, making a solution large enough to kill twenty people.

The smell got me, that sweet smell of ecstasy and demise all mixing into one. I was tempted to dip a finger quickly in and out similar to that of brownie batter. It took all of the self control I possessed to walk outside and pour it into the grass. Sighing, next was the marijuana.

That substance was eliminated by throwing it down into a grate in the middle of the sidewalk. Thank god no one I knew lived around these parts. The pills were disposed of by flushing.

Trekking back into her room, I saw Holly setting up a picture frame or two on the desk. One was of a guy holding her around the waist. He was extremely handsome. Ironically, she actually looked happy and well in that shot. "That was very brave of you," I praised her.

"Yeah, doesn't feel brave," Holly sulked, pinning a Mexican blanket to the pale white wall over her speakers.

Reaching over to shove the pillows into a bright pink pillow case, I reminded her, and myself, "A butterfly spends its whole life not knowing it's beautiful because they can't see their wings."

Holly sighed, hanging up a poster with various tribal designs on it. As long as it wasn't something claiming that legalizing pot would solve everyone's problems, I didn't care. "Anything around the house that you want in here?" I questioned, trying to create some sort of reliability on my part.

"Well, not really, just the water color in the dining room, but you probably like that," Holly chuckled, hanging scarves from an organizer on the back of her door.

Shaking my head, I walked into the dining room, located right outside her room, and took the painting off of the wall. Leaning it up against the arch between the kitchen and dining area, I retrieved hammer and nails from the tool kit. "No, seriously, you don't have to," Holly insisted from her doorway.

"My ex fiancé's brother painted that, and I absolutely cannot stand it throwing off the color in that room," I lugged the frame into the colorful room.

"Well, thanks," Holly beamed as she watched me hammer the picture to its new home. The rainbow swirls were perfect above the leather chair that sat under it. Her room was teaming with color and life. I hoped this would reflect her new beginning.


"So, let me get this straight, you want to become a stationary agent on the team?" Hotchner interrogated over the phone. Holly was in the shower and Spencer, Penelope, and Derek were coming over later.

"Yes sir, only having to fly out when I'm absolutely needed, I'm willing to take the pay cut," I set forth.

"Then it's done."


Penelope arrived first, with her usual bright self. I was glad to see her, and I was looking forward to seeing her much more frequently, "Good evening, love."

"Penelope," I returned her embrace. Penelope hugs were the absolute best. Breaking away from the affection was a bittersweet feeling in the pit of my stomach, but at least it wasn't the burn, "That's my niece, Holly Matthews. Holly, this is the awesome Penelope Garcia, I work with her," I introduced them both.

Holly smiled brightly, even larger than in the picture of her and the boy, "I love your sunflower," Holly pointed to Penelope's hair. With the arrival of the next guest, Derek, Penelope and Holly scurried off to their own little corner. Something told me they were going to become great friends.

"Hey Derek," I waved, giving him the hug his outstretched arms craved.

"Good evening Flo, how are you doing?" Derek interrogated, giving an encouraging glance towards Penelope.

Smiling, I answered, "Alright, Penelope's over there with my…"

"Hush Flo, I'm doing the introductions," Penelope interrupted. Penelope did as she promised and the four of us all sat around and joked. Occasionally, I found myself looking in the reflection of the TV, which was playing soft music, for Spencer's car. We were all supposed to play Monopoly or something like that tonight, maybe it was Jenga. I don't care what it is; I just want him to come.

And he eventually did, springing from my seat; I refrained from running to the door. Penelope and Derek shared the same gaze that let me know that they knew. Great. Opening the door for Spencer, I remarked, "Well, this one's a record."

Spencer rolled his eyes, ignoring his crutches and extending his arms for a hug. He didn't have to ask me twice. Wrapping my arms around him, a few giggles erupted from the other side of the room. "Hey Flo," Spencer stammered, maneuvering the living room.

"Hey Spencer, that's my niece, Holly. Holly, that's Dr. Spencer Reid," I pointed to the beaming girl. She was obviously smiling for the same reason as Garcia and Morgan.

"Hey Spencer," Holly waved. Penelope got out the Monopoly board, and I returned to my seat. Spencer sat beside me and Holly sat to my left. "Onto the next one, Auntie?" Holly sneered.

Nudging her in the side, I was glad that Derek and Penelope didn't get the opportunity to hear that, even though Penelope sat in the chair neighboring Holly and Derek sat next to Spencer. Noticing Spencer, I realized how he had strategically shifted the table so he could inconspicuously rest a hand on my thigh without drawing attention to us. All I had to do was keep my cool.

This proved to be hard. Garcia passed out the money and his hand shifted the tiniest bit. Shivers ran up and down my spine and a grin plastered his face. Gently his thumb began to motion in circles, everything in me wanted to jump from the seat.

The game continued for hours, and countless times Penelope insisted she get the drinks. What I wouldn't do for some time away from Spencer's constant teasing. Into hour three, Derek went bankrupt. Shamefully, his eyes refused to give away their constant twinkle. Morgan, though he probably did have a slew of issues, was one of the most reliable people I knew. Those eyes briefly met mine and the others around the table. Mine were the only ones that probably looked like they were coming out of my eye sockets.

Upon reaching hour five, Spencer had won and Penelope said her goodbyes, even giving Holly her phone number. Spencer finally stopped playing with my legs and gave me the chance to rush around to make up for being a slapdash hostess with trembling knees.

That condescending smirk of confidence so uncharacteristic to the personality in the real world illuminated his features. Those eyes drilled more caves into my back as they studied assiduously everywhere I meandered. Studied, it made me sound like a person of interest rather than the equivalent of a torn, weathered, balled up piece of paper.