Disclaimer: Still don't own Criminal Minds

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Lori Hanson organized events but did more pageants than anything else. "We understand you used to compete in them when you were a child," Hotch probed.

Hanson smiled, "Guilty, I'm afraid. It was mostly because my mother wanted it. It had always been something she wanted to do but never could because she had a sick mother she had to help care for until her mom died. After I was born, she swore she was going to get me exposed. I was entered in all the pageants and mom was always sending my pictures around to ad agencies but nothing ever developed. So mostly we did this." She waved her hand around the convention hall that was full of mothers and young girls, all with their hair done and makeup on, even the very young. "Most of the time I didn't mind but there were times I wanted to be out playing with kids my own age instead of having costume fittings, choosing music or perfecting my walk. It was hard work for a little girl."

"So if you didn't like doing pageants, why do you organize them?" Emily asked, trying to get a measure of the woman.

"The PR firm I worked for was approached about organizing one and since I had previous experience, I was the natural choice. Once I started doing it, I found I really enjoyed it from this end and I do it almost exclusively now."

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William was resting on his bed after his meeting with his lawyer. There was a lot to think about. Spencer wanted him to plead guilty but if there was a chance to get out of this, he should take it, shouldn't he? Spencer would understand about the antidepressants. He probably knew all that information anyway. Maybe if Spencer knew he was on antidepressants it would make a difference. Walcott wouldn't be able to pull the wool over Spencer's eyes. He was too smart for that. William always knew his son was brilliant but he remembered when it really hit home and made him start thinking of his son as freaky.

Spencer had been nine and Diana was starting to fail more each day. It was becoming more noticeable that she was losing ground. Both he and Spencer were trying to deny the obvious. He had come home late one evening. He had been purposely staying later at the university to avoid his home life. This night Spencer was sitting at the kitchen table eating ice cream with what looked like schoolwork in front of him. Perfectly normal, William thought. Then he noticed the papers were essays on Chaucer written by Diana's students. He watched as the boy's finger flew quickly over each page, the pages turning so fast it was a flurry of white, stopping only to circle things in red and make notations in the margins. Then he'd put a mark at the front of each paper. He had stared in disbelief at his son, realizing he was grading his mother's papers. Needing a drink, he left his own stack of papers on the inquisition atop the table and went in search of the scotch bottle. He returned to find Spencer grading them as well. He remembered checking his son's evaluation of his students' work afterward. It was phenomenal. His son was a much stricter marker than he himself was and he knew his students would not like to have Spencer for a teacher. He would be a tough taskmaster. He'd circled a passage in one student's work as plagiarism, citing the book, author and page number, all from memory. Although professors often used markers to grade their papers, he wondered how his students would react to knowing they'd been graded by a nine year old. He had always known that his son was amazingly gifted and early on he had been very proud of that fact but after the grading incident and all the problems that Spencer's genius effectuated, he'd started to see his son not so much as brilliant but more as weird.

Was it jealousy, he wondered. Had he felt jealous that Spencer had picked up things in those papers that he would have missed? He was the professor for God's sake. He had a doctorate in the subject. How could this nine year old know more about his subject of expertise than he did. Spencer often knew things he didn't and was always spouting off some kind of fact. He had gotten used to that. This was different though; it was the first time he had ever felt belittled by Spencer. He knew it had not been his son's intention, Spencer didn't have a mean bone in his body, but that didn't change how he'd felt.

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Tara Perkins had started in child pageants twenty years ago when she was six. Her mother who had been a cheerleader and runner up to the homecoming queen assured Tara is would be fun and her mother was right. It was fun, for her mother. Tara, on the other hand would rather have been anywhere other than in beauty pageants but her mother insisted it would help her in her later life. "Well I guess she was right about that," Tara told Reid and JJ. "My career as a photographer really picked up when I decided to start taking pictures at the pageants. They always need pictures and if you're Johnny on the spot, you're going to get the work."

"Your mother must be very happy that you chose this avenue for your work since she enjoyed the pageants so much," Reid asked.

"My mother actually wished I'd done something like modeling or acting that could have made me famous. But that wasn't for me so she just had to live with being disappointed. At least my sister fulfilled her aspirations and became a housewife and mother."

"Why didn't your mother want this for your sister," JJ wondered.

"My sister wasn't pretty and I was, simple as that."

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Hotch and Emily met up with Reid and JJ. Gideon and Morgan were still talking to the two mothers. The team decided to watch part of the pageant that afternoon to see the four women in action. In the meantime, lunch seemed like a good idea. Emily called Morgan to tell them where the team would be when they finished their interviews.

The group left the convention hall which was bustling with activity; young girls and their mothers were everywhere. Sound crews were checking their equipment while cameramen were setting up. The endless hum seemed to die as soon as they closed the doors and headed for the restaurant. Their meals had been ordered by the time Gideon and Morgan joined them. The waitress took the latecomers' orders and left.

"So how did it go with the mothers," Hotch asked?

"Well, they seemed to be…"

A flashbulb went off just beyond their table. The team looked up to see a photographer taking pictures. There was a woman with him holding a recording device who said, "Aren't you Agent Reid, who took down Senator Billingsly and her accomplice for murdering that caterer."

Reid, totally taken by surprise, looked very uncomfortable. "Yes and I have no comment," Reid responded trying to look anywhere but at the man holding the camera.

"What was it like when you found out Billingsly and her henchman were going after your little brother," the reporter continued?

"No comment," Reid replied again.

"Are you here on a case? You are aren't you? Is something going on at the pageant?"

"No comment," Reid reiterated more forcefully, glancing at JJ, his eyes pleading, 'help me out here.'

JJ stood up, facing the woman and the cameraman. "I'm Special Agent Jareau and I handle all dealings with the press regarding any investigations and arrests of this team."

"That's all very well and good," the woman replied. "But we don't want to speak with you, we want to speak with him," she gestured toward Reid.

"Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Reid has told you repeatedly he has no comment. That is all you are going to get so please go back to covering the pageant. There is nothing newsworthy going on here."

"Are you kidding me, Honey? Taking down Senator Billingsly is big news and the guy who did it is big news whether he wants to be or not. The first reporter who gets a story from him and his brother is going to become big news. I'd like that person to be me."

"You will not be getting any comment from me and you will not be getting anywhere near my brother. You saw what happened to the last person who tried. That's all I have to say."

The reporter looked intrigued. "Are you threatening me Dr. Reid?"

Reid looked the woman in the eye and said, "Oh no, I never threaten."