CHAPTER 128

IT'S NOT MY SECRET TO TELL

Sunday night had been a delight. Emily had felt more at home than ever, now that Angela had kept her company for the night and Angie, in turn, felt happy. It was a win-win kind of a situation, for both.

In the middle of the night Angela had found her way to Emily's room again, where she'd stayed until the morning. She usually liked having her own bed, but she didn't mind sharing one with Emily. She did, however, mind how Emily spent the entire night making sure Angie was completely covered by the duvet. Angie oozed warmth when she slept and the last thing she needed was something big and heavy on top of her, to add to the warmth. She'd kick it aside only to find it on her instantly again. One day she'd have to let Emily know she was not a fan of sleeping covered, but that day was not today. Her heart did not let her say those words to the woman who had sacrificed her sleep, in order to make sure Angie would sleep well.

Bright and early in the morning, Angela's hands shook Emily, holding her by the shoulders. It took some fighting back, as Emily placed a pillow on her face and turned sideways, trying to steal a few more minutes of peace, but in the end Angela won and Emily got up grumpily. A quick shower helped wake her up a tiny little bit, but then it was the double shot of coffee she took, that finally made her feel somewhat alive again.

And then it was time to hit the gym, as per their new little tradition. Angela was energized and ready to work out, while Emily spent a little more time stretching and being lazy with her work out before Angie urged her to do a partner work out where she nearly destroyed the poor woman with the exercises she chose.

After an intense Monday morning workout with Emily, Angie headed back to the dorms to get ready for class. She had one theory class and one practical training to scratch out on her schedule before lunch time. And then she had to eat a sandwich while running to Headquarters where she was going to spend her lunch break at.

"Trainee Hunter, I've been wondering when I'd see you again." A woman greeted her as she nearly kicked her office door down and took a seat on the couch.

"It's just Angela, or Angie. Please." She said with a smile. "And can we start this? I have class in an hour and I already have to cut this thing short by five minutes, so I can get there in time."

The woman took a sip of coffee, masking her smile behind the mug. This girl was way too eager to be there.

"Sure, what would you like to talk about today?"

"Well, considering how I only had five sittings with you, I need to resolve everything now. Today. Like, right now." Angie said, short out of breath.

"Alright, I have no clue what you need to resolve, but let's start by wiping that ketchup off your face, sounds good?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Allen." She said, rubbing a wet wipe against her lips. She should have known to check herself out in the mirror before entering the office. It was rude to look non presentable.

"Now, how about you tell me what exactly is it that you need to get fixed?" The woman asked, since Angie had failed to catch on the subtle hint that she had to let her know already.

"Oh. Yeah…I don't know. Everything, I guess…"

"Ok, but we need to take a step back first. I need to know what happened with Monkey? Is that okay to ask?"

"I suppose. I mean, you're literally paid to prey on other people's private business, so why not?" Angie scoffed. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be rude to you. I just still don't like your job and I find it useless."

"Then why are you here?"

"I don't know, okay? I literally have to be here. Plus, I don't like your job, but I do like you. I think you are a remarkable woman and I envy all…that…" With her hand, she gestured to the walls.

Each time Angie had been there, she had let herself check out all of this woman's academic accomplishments, all those framed pieces of paper that surrounded them. She was sure there were more, that didn't make it to that wall. And that was astonishing to her.

"Thank you, but you did not answer my question." The woman raised an eyebrow. By now she knew that Angie was damn good at changing the subject and avoiding questions. She also knew how to handle her, in those situations.

"Fine, I sent a letter back to Monkey and I broke it off. For good, this time. I mean, I'll always love Monkey, but I finally figured where I stand and there is no place for Monkey to stand, next to me. So Monkey had to go and I made that clear. They haven't reached out again. So that chapter is now closed." Angie replied quickly, almost as if she had rehearsed those words.

Had she given that same speech to herself before? Was she trying to convince her therapist Martha Allen, or was she trying to convince herself?

"Well, if this is what you needed to do, then it's a good thing you took that decision. The important thing is to not look back and have regrets, one day. Do you think that might happen?"

"I don't think so. Monkey represents the most amazing things I've ever had and felt in life, but they also are a dead ringer for my deepest, darkest pain. And I can't have that in my life. It wouldn't be healthy, especially in the line of work I'm trying to get into. I figured that the longer I procrastinate this break up, the more I'd grow to hate Monkey and that wasn't what I wanted. I needed a clean slate, one more time."

"One more time?" Martha was curious.

"Long story. Now can we, please, stop wasting time on Monkey? It's done, we're over, it's never going to bother me again, so can we move on?"

"Yes, you are extremely eager to get something else off your chest. I can tell." Martha said with a smirk on her face. She looked so peaceful, yet so intimidating. Angie respected intimidating people.

"Yeah, maybe. Okay, so I told you I'd swap Monkey for someone else, right? And I've been doing just that. I've gotten to know someone new, you could say, and I really like them."

"Since we're now talking…and this is progress…Now, can I ask if we could finally put a 'he' or a 'she' in a sentence?" Martha had a theory and with each time she saw Angie, she had been trying her best to make Angie admit something. This was yet another attempt.

"No. We can call them…Black Panther." Angie shook her head.

It was not happening. She wouldn't put a gender to that person and that was making Martha's job a Hell of a lot harder to do, especially since the gender of that mysterious person was the source of Angie's problems.

"Nice nickname. How did they get it?"

"Symbolism, duh! Black Panther has been used as a spiritual animal for centuries and people always looked up to its strength and power, but they also feared this beautiful animal because of its breathtaking appearance. The panther spirit animal stands for power and protection. It is a symbol of valor, courage, and determination. The panther is closely associated with the power of night and the dark moon. It also represents strength." Angie never disappointed on coming off as a human Wikipedia.

"Symbolism, you say?" Martha knew a lot about symbolism. She had studied it profoundly, because of her work. A lot of Agents came to her, explaining their nightmares or weird hallucinations, so she liked being prepared with the meanings of the most random things, objects, animals, colors.

"When the Black Panther appears in someone's life, it symbolizes a fierce guardian." Martha's words made Angie turn sideways and look at her with surprise.

"Now, tell me Angela, is this new person in your life a good match, to be your guardian?" The woman finished with a question.

"Yeah. I mean, I just kicked Monkey out of my life, so it only felt right to substitute her with someone else." Angie let her emotions reply this time, instead of her better judgment.

Martha pursed her lips, hearing Angie finally come out and admit that the source of her troubles was a female figure - someone she had previously considered as her guardian. It confirmed Martha's suspicions, but it also meant that Angie was a bit more emotionally screwed up than what she had expected.

"So, you feel safe with Black Panther? They make you happy?" She asked, not daring to challenge Angie on her little slip up. The girl was completely oblivious to the fact that she had slipped up anyway.

"Yes!" Angie replied instantly. "I mean, I know I'm 23, so I'm supposed to pretend like I'm a grown-up who doesn't need…protection…or guidance, or whatever you want to call it…" She reached for a glass of water. This therapy thing was harder than a work out and she felt the constant need to drink.

"Everyone needs protection and guidance. You wouldn't believe all the late night calls I still place to my mother's phone, when I need her. It's normal, even for someone my age. So, don't feel pressured to grow up, okay? You are so young and I can tell that you are very mature for your age, if you drop the airhead act…"

Martha looked at Angie who was about to open her mouth and protest against being called out on this 'act' again.

"Shh." Martha silenced her immediately. "My point is, every human being has that one other human being, to lean on and to trust, in times of need. And especially for a girl your age, a mother is usually that figure."

Angie looked down, studying her shoe laces for a moment, but her mind was elsewhere. Martha's words hit hard.

"Well, I'm only just trying to figure out Black Panther, but so far they haven't disappointed me. And yes, I know it is human to screw up and to disappoint someone, so I'm obviously not expecting everything to be amazing, because it just would not be realistic of me to have those expectations…" Angie let her right foot sway left and right a few times and to Martha that screamed insecurity.

"But…I mean, I like what I'm seeing so far and…" She tried. She really did. It just wasn't happening, she wasn't able to put her thoughts into words.

"Luckily for you, I know exactly what you're thinking and feeling right now." Martha intervened. She knew by now that the best way to get through to this girl was to appeal to her vast knowledge of human behavior.

"Tell me what you know about psychological transference?" Martha asked, praying that Angie wouldn't quote an entire book. She knew the girl was most probably able to do so.

"Transference describes a situation where the feelings, desires and expectations of one person are redirected and applied to another person. And I'm only being so brief about it, not because I don't know more…oh, trust me, I've read enough material on this topic; but because we now only have forty-one minutes left before I need to go and I'm milking every second of this thing out, as much as I can."

Why didn't Angie's reply surprise Martha? If anything, it made her chuckle.

"I'm also aware that this is exactly what I've done with Monkey and Black Panther, but trust me, it's okay. It's not a psycho-crazy kind of a thing. It's actually okay for me to do it. I've researched. I'm not mentally unstable…well, according to a few of the sources I found. The others were not very specific…" Angie continued rambling.

"I'm sorry, but I have to correct you. It is definitely not okay to do this and you know it. You can't just transfer your feelings from one human being to another." Martha tried to reason, but met Angie's disapproving stare.

"I said it's okay! I know what I'm doing." Angie said defensively.

"This is usually the point where I stop arguing with my clients, but since I have a soft spot for you, I must continue-…" Martha tried to speak, but Angie cut her off.

"Ah-ha! Counter transference! Smart, you're working an angle where the therapist projects her own feelings onto the subject, I mean, me." Angie called her out.

Martha should have known her attempts would flank.

"Damn it, you are too smart!" Martha sighed and took another sip of coffee from her mug, trying to come up with a different approach.

Angela was a fortress, there was just no breaking down those walls.

"I moved around a lot…" Angie did it again. She was known to start a completely new topic and to come up with some statement that did not tie back to her previous statement, in any way, shape or form.

"When I was a child, I was constantly moving. I never lived somewhere for more than a few months at a time." She explained, so that Martha could catch up.

"Different cities?" Martha knew that Angie had moved a lot. This was another part of her underlying issues.

"No…"

"Different states?"

"Different countries and continents." Angie pointed out.

"Oh. Well, isn't it beautiful to be able to see the world?" Martha knew it was not beautiful. It was terrifying, especially to a child. And it would leave scars, much like the ones Angie was now trying to hide under the charisma of this character she was playing.

"It was. I was very grateful to have the opportunity to travel and to learn all those languages, to get to know different cultures and to learn how to communicate with people who were so much more different than me. It made me stronger and smarter and that's how I can now stand tall, in a room of strangers, and deliver a speech without a care in the world. It's all I've ever known."

"But…?" Martha pried. She knew there was a downside to that story.

"However…" Angie changed the word, but it was basically the same thing. "I never had any stability. Yes, I had somewhere to go sleep at night and yes, I had food and clothes. I also had access to money and that got me into good schools, but…"

"But you needed that one person…" Martha ended off Angie's statement. "…to guide you, to protect you."

"I guess so. And, I mean, I guess I'm too old to be having those issues now, but I realize I've never had that in my life and I really want to."

"Didn't you say Monkey made every place feel like home?" Martha recalled one of their previous sessions.

"Yes, but it was all under pretense. And there was a time stamp to it. Plus, it ended badly…"

"I think there is so much more that you're not telling me, Angela. And without knowing the facts, I can't put the picture together. I'm not able to follow your thoughts and your struggles."

"Nice try. And you're also right, may I add. But I'm not willing to share more details than what I've already shared. It's not my secret to tell." Angie shut her down politely.

That was when it dawned Martha. What if this entire time, the thing that Angela was protecting - this huge secret; hasn't been her secret after all? What if she was protecting someone else? It would make sense, with the way she refused to even put a gender to that person. It almost felt like Angie was in denial about their existence. Did that person exist at all? Martha didn't peg Angie for someone who would make a person up and then speak about them. She was not crazy, so the only other logical explanation would be that the girl was protecting someone else's identity instead.

"What have I gotten myself into…" Martha thought to herself while quietly taking yet one more sip of her coffee.

"Uh, Angela, I don't believe I will be able to help you today. Five hours with me is nothing, compared to the attention you need right now. And I'm being absolutely unprofessional for telling you that, in such a blunt way, but you are such a smart girl and I have faith that you are able to read between the lines here and to understand what I'm trying to communicate to you." Martha tried honesty. After all, people say honesty is the best policy.

She had tried tricking Angela and it had gotten her nowhere. She had tried to challenge Angela's wisdom and it had given her very little results. So why not try some old school brutal honesty, instead?

"But…five hours is all that SSA Garrett gave me. I can't afford private sessions. I can't even afford a damned scrunchie." Angie bit her lip.

Somehow, with Martha, she wasn't ashamed to speak of her finances.

Those words confirmed to Martha that brutal honesty was the way to go, with Angela. After all, this is what the girl stood for. She had repeatedly told Martha that she did not believe in therapy, which conflicted with her desire to study human behavior in the first place. Martha was itching to confront her about that, too, but she was afraid it would open the door to a whole new discussion, one they sadly had no time for.

"I'm sad too, but please don't cry. I've made enough people cry lately…" Angie's voice came out soft.

She had seen the change in Martha's mood, with their last few words.

"Although, I've recently read this study that suggests that 72% of therapists cry and those who do, cry in averagely 7% of their therapy sessions. However, those estimates do not take into account the intensity and duration, so it might mostly consist of the usual single teardrop kind of a thing, you know…" Angie went on a full rant again.

"And I need to stop talking now." She ended it off when she saw Martha giving her a weird look.

"I am on a Bureau salary, so technically you would never need to pay me, even if you continued seeing me." Martha pointed out.

"Oh, that's cool. What can I do to get myself into therapy? Can I fake a massive freak out during class and get sent here to work on my issues?" Angie asked bluntly.

"I mean, I'm not exactly authorized to reply this, but…" Martha had to choose her next words carefully. She could either tell Angela this was a stupid idea, or she could be honest. Or she could just challenge her - that would work as well.

"…can you?" Martha whispered.

She basically gave all of her diplomas and accomplishments the middle finger. She was not supposed to enable her clients. But she was also not supposed to just stop therapy so abruptly, just when she was starting to make progress, only because the assigned hours for an Agent were finished. And Angie's suggestion, as foolish as it had been, had actually been something that could give her the results she wanted.

"But since I'm sure you'd make a huge dramatic scene that might potentially get you into trouble at the Academy, how about you go to your class mentor first? He might be inclined on assigning more therapy for you. I've dealt with a few Trainees through the years, when I was subbing for their therapist." Martha said.

"Subbing?"

"Yes, the Academy has a therapist. Well, had. And then the budget cuts forced them to let go of that person and now Trainees get to go to whoever they want, when assigned therapy hours. And that's how you ended up here. I normally work with people who have been in the Bureau for years."

"Oh, I can only imagine the things you've heard…wow…" Angie felt shivers down her spine. If she thought her problems were legit, she had no idea the nightmares Martha had after a siting with a real Agent, on occasion.

"Plus, I'm glad I ended up here, with you. I kind of really like you." Angie added. She had been feeling guilty for all the times she had been vocal about her dislike of therapy, so each time she had the chance, she made sure Martha knew she was cool.

"I'm glad to hear that. Now, back on topic. Time is running out…" Martha realized that they had wasted some valuable time by discussing things that were not that important.

"Oh yeah. Ask me something. I don't know what to say."

"Alright, let's talk about Black Panther then. I've heard how you feel about them, but are your feelings reciprocated? And think twice before answering. This is a tricky question. It's easy for us to sometimes think that someone likes us just as much as we like them." Martha tried it one more time – brutal honesty. And once again, it worked. Apparently Angela responded best when she heard the truth, no matter how harsh it was.

"I think so. I mean, they've gone way out of their way, to make me feel comfortable. They've brought me into their world, their life, their work, even into their family."

"So, you've met their parents, siblings, spouse?"

"Yeah, no. That's not the kind of people we think of, when we say 'family'."

"We?" Martha was quick to call her out on that.

"Yeah, Monkey and I don't have what you, normal people, call a traditional family. We are each other's family, in a way."

"You mean Black Panther?"

"Yeah, sorry. I mean Black Panther." Angie replied way too quickly.

"No, wait. I really meant Monkey." Angie corrected herself when she realized she wasn't sure who she was talking about.

"I don't know Black Panther enough…no, well, yeah…I mean maybe, yeah…I guess the same applies to them." Angie took a deep breath to steady herself. She was not making any sense.

"Okay, relax for a moment. Drink some water and then start again, calmly." Martha said soothingly and gave Angie all the time she needed.

"Alright. Initially I meant Monkey. But it applies to Black Panther as well. They both call their colleagues their 'family' and that's whom they introduced me to. That's what I meant. But it also applies for Monkey…Wait, am I just going around in circles here?" Angie was doing well at explaining, until she brought it back to Monkey.

No matter what she said, it always came back to Monkey in the end and Martha was painfully aware why that was.

"Wow, the way you say it, it's like they're the same person." Martha laughed, shaking some tension off.

Angie scoffed. There was so much more to her little Jungle Book story. Martha had no idea…

"It is normal that we feel drawn to the same type of person, in different stages of our lives. Think about the boys you've dated – they must have always had something in common. Hair? Style? Ethnicity? Interests?"

"Invisibility…" Angie added, trying to make it look like a smart ass comment.

"Oh, come on. You can't tell me you've never been interested in a guy. Or a girl, no judgment. I should have been more inclusive here, my bad." Martha shrugged, wondering if that was what Angie was pointing at.

"I'm interested in guns. And crime. That doesn't really give me much time to worry about my dating profile. And I'm not into girls, just for the record. I've figured out this much…" She rolled her eyes, thinking back of a set of events that had led her to figuring out which gender she was attracted to. Then again, she wasn't even all that attracted to them anyway. Or rather, she was attracted, just not interested in dating them. She had no idea what the Hell was going on with that aspect of her life and she did not give a damn.

Martha was quiet for a moment and Angie felt uncomfortable. She knew the woman was tying those words to some sort of a psychological or physical trauma that must have happened to Angela in the past. That was what all the books taught people, who were interested in psychology.

But there was so much more to the story…

"My point was that we all have a type, whether it be about relationships or about friendships. It's a 'taste' we acquire. It's a 'preference'. Think of the ice cream flavor you always get. Think of the type of shoes you like. Think of that one nail polish that you always end up using, even if you own different other colors, too." Martha tried to prove her point by giving different examples.

"Ugh, I love everything caramel - ice cream, cake, cupcake toppings, anything really. I'd choose it over anything else, every single time. And yeah, I understand about us having a 'type' and I know you're going to say that it also applies to the people we want to keep close. And yes, Black Panther reminds me a lot of Monkey, my God, you wouldn't even believe it…" Angie's eyes were set on a spot, just outside the window.

It felt like she was zoned out for a moment, just reminiscing about her past, with Monkey. And then she smiled and that smile confirmed to Martha that Angie was most definitely not okay with cutting Monkey out of her life completely.

"Can I be honest with you?" Angie asked, out of the blue.

"Yes, just please do not offend my job again." Martha could not help but laugh as she turned that into a joke.

"No, it's not about you. Egoistically, it's about me…"

"Good. We are here to discuss you, after all." Martha smiled, giving Angie some courage.

"I feel like an idiot and I feel like I'm wasting your time with half-assed truths and carefully planned out words." Angie said honestly.

"I'm not going to lie, you are wasting time, but you are wasting your time, not mine. And no, you are not an idiot."

"I wish I could be honest with you, but I can't." Angie came out truthful and Martha believed her.

"Then try it." Martha suggested, already knowing it wasn't going to happen.

"I don't know how to. I've never been honest in my entire life! With anyone! And the more I try to speak, the harder it gets. And I end up making people cry and feel upset, but it was never my intention. I just want to be normal and to be able to communicate with actual words, not just masked up clues and coded sentences."

"Uh, Angela…I'm pretty sure you're not talking about me here." Martha called her out again.

What had started off as Angie nearly apologizing for sucking at therapy, had turned into a full on downpour of how she felt about her relationship with someone else.

"It's about Monkey." Martha said.

"No…" Angie tucked her hair behind her ears and she let her back hit the pillow on the couch.

"It's all about Black Panther now." Angie added, making Martha surprised to hear that.

Martha had figured those were feelings Angie had towards Monkey. It didn't make sense that she felt so strongly about Black Panther, whom Angie claimed to have only met recently and to not know much about. Yes, psychological transference, or projection, was one thing. But this went way beyond that.

"Crap, I have SWAT!" Angie was up on her feet within a second, after she checked what time it was. She had five minutes to get to the training field or she knew DeMo would make her life miserable if she was late.

Martha walked Angie out of her office and she told her assistant to re-schedule that appointment, coming up with the fake excuse that she had been unable to tend to her client as an important urgent call had interrupted their session.

"Thank you so much!" Angie whispered to Martha when she realized this woman was now giving her one free therapy session.

This was amazing news, especially since Angie never got to resolve her issues, as she would have liked to, during this current session.

What she did not know yet was that Martha was not the one who could resolve her issues. She was only able to point her in the right direction and to urge her to resolve her issues with a certain fierce animal that Angie was feeling so strongly drawn to.

"Yo DeMo, wassup? I'm sorry I'm late! I lost track of time at therapy." Angie greeted, short out of breath, with her face red from all the running she had done between Headquarters and the Academy grounds.

"Yo girl. All good. About to bust your ass on the field today, so you might wanna chill and take a breath before that. Also, you're just on time, so don't stress, okay?" He replied with a smile.

Ever since Morgan had joined the Academy, for those few hours of training per week, he had established a great relationship with the Trainees. Everyone called him just DeMo, as he had requested, and he had numerous people come to him for advice and just some chat. He was like a friend to them. However, during training he'd be ruthless, he'd shout at anyone who dared make the smallest mistake. He needed to be tough, to teach them, to prepare them for the real world out there. He also needed to let out all of that pent up anger, all of his regrets about not being able to go back to the BAU. The fact that they still did not know he was back, was all his own fault, though. He had no right to complain about that.

"Please do! I need to unwind a little. Kicking doors down would do me some good right about now." Angie smirked and walked over to greet her group of friends before the training would start.

Three hours later, everyone was sprawled on the grass, breathless and sweaty.

"Dude, that was one Hell of a…something. I don't even know what to call it." Bryan commented, as soon as he was able to speak.

"Yeah, this guy is really good at what he does. There's so much we can learn from him." Angie turned sideways, laying close to Bryan and trying to steady her heartbeat.

She had been running around, screaming at the top of her lungs, wearing full SWAT armor, for three hours now. 'Exhausted' did not start to explain what she felt.

"Is it like that, out there, in the real world?" She asked, curious about SWAT.

"Pretty much, yeah. But you don't always know how the building is structured, where the exits are, how to proceed. You don't have a DeMo to yell at you when you screw up, so that's for you to realize, on your own terms. And then it's up to you to come up with a new plan of action. It's very stressful and it demands skills, stamina, but most of all – self-control. You can never act out on something your heart is telling you to do. You have to go by the book, wait for orders from your Superior and then risk your own life, repeatedly, hoping that it would give you results. You know, apart from the self-control, which we all know you have none of…I think you'd be good for SWAT." Bryan's words made Angie think for a moment.

"No, I'm a BAU baby." She replied after a few seconds.

SWAT sounded great, but it wasn't where she'd fit well and she knew it.

"But…" Bryan tried to argue, only to be shot down by an icy glance from his best friend.

"Okay, I won't say it, but you know how I feel about you, limiting your options." He took a sip of water before continuing. "So, what's the plan, after Graduation? We'll soon have to fill out our application forms for Internship and then we'll get our placement where the Bureau finds fitting, based on our performance in the Academy. Have you thought about the Units you'll be applying for? If not for a job placement, then only just for the Internship maybe? It's a start. You may end up liking the Unit you get assigned to."

"I'm all sorted out, thanks." She said mysteriously.

Those papers, both for Internship and for a job placement, had been filled in and submitted months ago. He just had no idea how prepared Angie really was when it came to the Academy. But she wasn't going to give him any more information about that.

"Fine then, keep it all to yourself. Just know that sharing your thoughts with someone is actually helpful. But hey, you do you." He sounded a bit offended that Angie was always refusing to discuss things with him. It had been weeks that they've been together all the time and it felt like she still thought of him as a stranger, pushing him out and refusing to share anything personal.

"That's what therapy is for." Angie commented.

"Yeah, too bad it's ending. You have, what is it…one or two sessions left?"

"Mhm, about that…" Angie stood up and started walking away.

She had an agenda and this was the perfect time to act on it.

She scanned her surroundings and found DeMo, talking to Dan, near the training field. They had stayed behind as Dan always needed feedback on everyone's performance, right after every training.

"Hi…" Angie waved shyly, butting into their conversation.

"Trainee Hunter, haven't seen you in a while." Dan greeted her with something that looked like a smile. Was he happy to see her?

"Yeah, I've been…" She trailed off, looking the other way.

The game was so on.

"Busy studying for the upcoming exams?" Dan suggested.

"Kind of, yeah. There's just so much to learn and so little time and we're always so tired after training and classes and it's just…it's a bit overwhelming…" She gave him her best performance.

Anyone who would have seen her speak so shyly, bite her lower lip repeatedly, act nervous before she'd finally admit that it was overwhelming, would have felt the pain she was communicating.

Even Dan fell for it.

But not DeMo. She wasn't going to fool him.

"Well, then I guess it's a good thing you now have days off and are allowed to travel and go see family, friends, go have fun. How was your Sunday?" Dan asked with a bright smile now.

"I ate ice cream and felt sorry for myself…" She should have chosen her words better.

Feeling sorry for herself wasn't something neither Dan nor DeMo could ever imagine, when it came to the Wild Card beast.

"Sounds like someone has some issues that need to be resolved…" DeMo suggested, placing an impact on the word 'issues', for dramatic effect.

Angie just nodded, keeping her composure.

"Dan, I think we might need to send this one to therapy. What do you say?" DeMo continued and it took Angie a lot of strength, to keep herself from grinning victoriously. This was way too easy to achieve and she didn't even have to make a huge emotional scene, thus, making a fool out of herself.

"Oh, that's fine. Anytime you want, Hunter. Let me know and I'll assign you to a therapist." Dan replied, as if this was no big deal.

Truthfully, it wasn't. The Trainees had been told from day one that they were going to have full access to therapy, whenever they felt the need for it. The Academy was extremely stressful and thus, therapy was an option for everyone.

"I want Dr. Martha Allen. And thanks. Have a good day." Angie hurried to get away from the guys before this would turn into a discussion.

Dan needed to let her know that Dr. Allen was not an option. She followed the higher ups, the Unit Chiefs, the old souls of the FBI. She had done a few sessions with Trainees, but she wasn't specializing in their problems, she barely knew enough about their troubles at the Academy. There were other therapists, ones who often followed Academy-related things, that Angie had to choose from.

However, her issues were not related to the Academy, at all. So she was fine just wanting her favorite Dr. Allen. This would take some convincing later on, but she was sure Dan would cave in and allow her to sit with this woman. After all – Angela always got her way.

"Good call on suggesting therapy, Morgan. I'm surprised she was so willing to accept it." Dan told him when Angie was already away.

Morgan rolled his eyes. Those people were forgetting that he was a profiler. A damn good one, at that. He had seen the spark in Angie's eyes when she had told him she was in therapy, before class. It had been obvious to him that she wanted this, she needed this. So, for her to play a little game and act all stressed out and sorry for herself, it would only make sense that she was fishing to be assigned to have more therapy hours. Dan was completely oblivious to all that.

"Bryan, can I use your credit card again?" Angie called out that evening.

They had finished their classes and trainings for the day and they were both freshly showered and catching up on some of their mandatory reading, as they always did before bed.

"Sure, just don't buy thirty Robyn Hood costumes again, okay?" He replied, sprawling his leg on the chair next to his bed, getting comfortable. He had to read a huge manual for one of the classes and it wasn't on a topic that interested him, so he had to at least be comfortable while reading. It would take him a while to memorize all the procedures that were enlisted in the manual.

"Nah, I just need a whip." Angie laughed, dodging a pillow that instantly came her way.

Bryan hated it when she hinted at anything that had to do with the night when they had crashed the adult-themed party of their now ex Section Chief. He still had nightmares about her, in that tiny costume that she had worn.

"Seriously though, I need to buy some sweet stuff online and get it delivered here. Is that okay? Come, let's choose something for us as well." Angie made space for him on the little couch they had in the room.

"Plus, if I really needed a whip, I'd just steal Prentiss' one." She added cheekily. Now that was a whole new image she had just planted in Bryan's head and he'd curse her for it, any chance he had, especially when he was around said woman, trying not to imagine her with a whip in hand.

It felt good to put the manual down, even if it would only last a few minutes. Bryan was beyond bored with it already.

"For us, too?" He questioned.

"Yeah, I'm buying something for others. And before we get deep into an argument, I'm offering you all meals tomorrow, to pay off for it. End of discussion." She smirked and kept on scrolling down a website that made Bryan lick his lips.

"Fine. God, you're so hard to argue with!" He sighed and checked out the options on the screen. "Damn, how are we supposed to choose? Everything looks so yummy!"

"I already know I want something with caramel. Like this one, see? Vanilla, with caramel topping and pieces of Twix on top. Yum! Yes, please!" Angie put one of those in the cart and Bryan corrected that to two.

"What? We need to splurge when we're young, right?" He said when she gave him a look.

"Now, I want a chocolate one with…cherry topping. Yes, that sounds good. And a vanilla one with chocolate topping. That's good, I'm done. Now choose the ones you want to gift."

"Thank you." She smiled, feeling lucky to have him. He understood her. He complied with her every demand. He was perfect.

"I have to warn you, I need eight more of those." She spoke while scrolling down, as if she was looking for something specific.

"Not a problem. Get sixteen, that's two per person." He stated.

Of course he knew those eight pieces would be for the BAU team. Of course Angela would want to send them something. Of course, just…of course.

She chose wisely, two of each kind, two for every kind person she had met.

"Shoot, is that the number of fish in the sea or is that the total to be paid?" She sounded scandalized when, at the end of that splurge, she went out to the Checkout window and saw the price.

"Let me handle this. It's nothing, really." Bryan pushed her aside and paid with his card.

Angie had a suspicion that Bryan was more than well off. He always seemed to be carefree when it came to money, expenses, prices. He never came off obnoxious, but it was evident that money was never an issue for him.

"Thank you so much. Now, our four cupcakes are getting delivered here, to the Academy. And the sixteen go to…" She narrated as she typed the address, to finalize the purchase.

"You really are a good person, eh?" He asked, rhetorically.

She wasn't going to answer. She didn't have to. He just knew.

REVIEW REPLIES:

"rmpcmfan" Wohoo, so in a way you belong to your own super exclusive club, with your robe :)! Also, dare nobody mess with you after those Karate lessons! Hehe. Ooooh Emily (in my mind) was going nuts, obsessively reading the labels of all things in all five shops, making sure she'd pick the right products for Angela's hair type, her skin, etc. She sure wanted it to pass as 'meh, I was in a shop and spontaneously threw some random extra things in my basket, for you'…but it was most definitely NOT the case! Hmmm, one day you will know who the musical obsessed person in Emily's past was. Could it...maybe...be possible they were the owner of that tiny pink shirt that Emily had held on to for so many years and that Angela now found and wore around the house so proudly? We shall see. And yeaaah, Angela is an Emily clone from head to toe and if she doesn't match Emily's skin complexion or the shape of her nose or the color of her hair and eyes, she sure is EXACTLY like Emily, on the inside. It's no coincidence that everyone keeps telling Angela just that. I'm excited for you to learn more!

"Ducksdragonfly" Everybody wants a robe now hehe. The flirting…yeah…it gets progressively more suggestive lol. You just wait for the chats I have in store, between Emily and Richard. Throw in an eavesdropping Angela and it's a sure disaster…an M rated one, lol! None of those three has a filter between the brain and the mouth! The next visit to Paris may not go as planned…you'll soon read about it. Some light scheming may be involved. Bless those scheming best friends…

"sweetkid45" Well the NYC job sounds awesome…even Angela understands how great of an opportunity it is. We'll see what happens and if Emily finds out. She may go to NYC to personally chop the other Unit Chief's head off for trying to steal her girl. Lol! This won't be the only Unit that would offer Angie an internship, you just wait for it hehe!