We were called in to San Francisco, California to investigate two fires that killed two families within three weeks. Looking at the photo of the first victims – the Davis family – made my heart ache. The two daughters looked so happy, and their parents so proud. I looked at the Cutler family too. While Charlotte was still alive for now, she had burns over 60% of her body; it would be a miracle for her to survive.
The two families were ripped away way too early.

I shared my thoughts on the M.O. and the fact that we were dealing with a serial arsonist.
Reid seemed to be doing better lately, as he claimed to be trying to be more conversational. The light banter felt nice.

My mood was killed when I explained that serial arsonists weren't about power, and Hotch countered me with a tone verging on aggressive. "This one is".
I didn't speak again through the briefing. I did catch the look from Morgan; he was trying to make me feel better about the situation with Hotch, obviously, but it wasn't much help.

When we got to San Francisco, Hotch took me with him to the hospital to see Charlotte Cutler. Looking at her through the glass into her hospital room, I felt nauseous. The plastic over her skin to try and keep it intact, the colouring and severity of the burns – it was a little too much to view casually. It looked so painful.

When the doctor told us that she wouldn't survive long enough to know the difference between truth or lie, I almost snickered. There was no way we could lie to a victim and witness. For one, that was against the rules, but it was also against basic morals. After someone has been through that, you don't lie to them.

Listening to Hotch lie straight to Charlotte's face upset me. I had to take a deep breath to keep myself from interrupting.
I soon left the room to call Garcia and the others. I was glad to get out of there.

As if I wasn't angry enough with Hotch as it was.

When he finally left her room after staying with Charlotte for her last breath, the look on his face stopped me from confronting him about lying. I stayed quiet for the moment as he stood with me against the hospital wall, just staring at the floor. I watched him as he rebuilt his walls, and then he looked at me and asked for an update on the others.
I told him what they had shared with me, although we didn't have an awful lot yet.

"Are you okay?" I asked him when he got into the SUV, away from anyone else.

He looked at me with hard eyes, "Yes." I swallowed and looked forward, biting my lip. I heard him sigh, "I'm sorry." He looked at me, his face neutral now. I let a small smile appear, letting him know that it was okay.
It wasn't, but he was clearly upset.

We all had our own rooms for this trip. Occasionally JJ and I would share, and sometimes Reid and Morgan would as well.

I was up late, unable to sleep after seeing Charlotte today. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could think about was how her skin looked like it was still on fire, and how Hotch had lied right to her face about her family.
With time to think it through now, I realised that what he did was the right thing. She wasn't going to live to know different – as the doctor said – and there was no reason for her to die knowing her family was gone too. At least she died happy, thinking her husband and son were okay.
What upset me now was that if Hotch hadn't of been there and I had taken that interview myself, I would have left a grieving woman to die in her own tears.
I wasn't sure why it bothered me so much, but it was just sticking with me.


I barely got four hours sleep when my alarm sounded. I was tempted to close my eyes again, but I didn't need Hotch thinking I was slacking on the job.
I got up and got ready despite the headache caused by lack of sleep.

When we got to the station, we jumped right back in.

When we heard about the car explosion leaving a father and his two kids blown to pieces, I opted to stay at the station; I didn't think I could see another one without losing it.
I was still new to this part of the job; I couldn't handle it as well as the others yet. Not on the inside, anyway. My previous experience was a little different to this.
My façade was better than most, but mentally I couldn't push myself further.

I sat in the SUV beside Hotch as we trailed Evan Abby.
Hotch took a call by the time he hit his fourth bank. I tried not to listen, but it was hard not to hear Haley yelling at him through the phone.
She was upset because he still wasn't home and wasn't sure when he would be. When he told her he loved her at the end of the call, I didn't hear her return the words. Against my better judgement, I asked if everything was okay.
Obviously it wasn't.
He said it was, and so I didn't push. I steered the conversation to Abby.

I could see the way Hotch identified with Abby. A father just trying to do the best for his son, but still rather absent. I hated watching him see himself in our suspects. It mustn't have been good on his psyche.

Abby clearly favoured men over women as he completely disregarded me outside of his home.
He only spoke to me again when he said that he hoped my pictures came up well.

When we heard about the fire that caused a man to die on the side of the road almost straight after Abby disbanded the EDF, I saw Hotch's façade visibly slip. He excused himself from the room casually, as if he was going to make a call or speak with a local cop.
I watched him make his way to an unoccupied sitting room. A part of me wanted to follow and make sure he was okay, maybe convince him to stop taking this onto his own shoulders as if it were his fault. The smarter part of me stayed put; following him would just cause more issues between us.

After getting the tip of the fire in a nearby warehouse, Hotch instructed Reid, JJ, and I to stay behind. JJ seemed confused, but we did as we were told.

On our way back to the plane afterwards, Morgan filled us in on what happened and how miserable Hotch was. He said he cried. It broke my heart to hear.
On our flight home I watched him inconspicuously. He called Haley and almost begged her to speak with Jack. Judging by the smile on his face and the glisten in his eyes, his wish must have been granted. He adored that boy.

"How old is Jack?" I whispered to JJ beside me.

"Just turned three last month. I'm pretty sure Hotch is still in the doghouse because we were on a case during the birthday party."

"And for the actual birthday?" I asked.

She shook her head, "Home. He spent the whole day with him."

I nodded and sat back; JJ returned to her files.
If he was home and spent the whole day with Jack on his actual birthday, why was it such a huge deal that he missed the party? Haley struck me as someone who felt the need to keep up perfect appearances. Maybe Hotch not being there ruined the illusion that they were the most perfect, happy little family.
Overhearing the call where she yelled at Hotch, I could easily tell she was anything but happy.


JJ and Garcia invited me to an official girl's night out. I was excited; I dressed up and bought our first round of beers.
While at the bar, I met Brad. I almost laughed when he tried to impress me by claiming to be FBI. I decided teasing would be much more fun than just outright calling him out.
When I was over the whole "classified" deal and he refused to show his badge, that's when we pulled ours out. I could see the embarrassment in his eyes as he just turned and walked away without another word.
We were only a few sips in before JJ got the call, and we headed into the precinct together.
Morgan whistled when he saw me enter the conference room, followed by the other two. He teased us, mostly me, until Hotch and Rossi came in.

JJ handed out the files on the plane and we briefed.

In the Boise forest, I almost jumped when the local cop pointed out the black bear nearby. My time in the French Alps didn't often involve dangerous wildlife that close.
Viewing the scene, we deduced that we were looking at two unsubs and they were hunting humans for sport, just like they would elk or bears.

When we heard about the next victim being taken, we quickly got onto sharing the profile with the deputies. I included the information about the bow and arrow being the weapon, which Rossi had only filled me in on moments prior.

We studied maps of the forest and tried to pinpoint vantage points in areas not too far from where Bobbi went missing from.
It was getting too dark to continue, and the locals called us in.

Morgan asked if I wanted to grab dinner on our way back to the station. We stopped by a diner and sat in a small booth. We discussed the case for a while, and when our meals were brought out, he began to question me about my personal life. He claimed he wanted to know more about his partner; said he needed to know about me to trust me in the field.
I had a feeling he was trying to find dirt, maybe to report back to Hotch. Maybe they were trying to find something to fire me over.
I realised that was just my anxiety feeding me destructive theories. I suppressed the want to run, and I shared some personal facts only after he shared first.

At first light we were back in the forest. We were informed of some missing campers and found that their site wasn't overly far from where we were. As we viewed the empty site that only had tents and supplies left behind, and discussed hunting tactics, I felt something drop onto the top of my head.
I figured it was just some dew left from the morning cold…until I looked up. I wiped the blood away from where it dripped on my cheek and stepped away from the tree. "…I found them." I said to no one in particular. They were strung upside down in the trees.

By mid-afternoon we found one of our unsubs, stabbed and sitting by a fire as he bled out slowly.
Morgan shot his brother and I stood with my gun aimed on him until his heart stopped. When I holstered my gun, I guided Bobbi towards the deputies so they could take her into the station.

On the plane on the way home, most of us slept. Morgan was sitting across from me, his file in front of him but closed. "What's on your mind?" He finally asked after watching me for several silent minutes.

"Bobbi asked me something and it's stuck with me. She asked how they could do it."

"What did you tell her?"

"That they don't think like we do. But that's not true, is it? We hunt these people every day. How different are we?" I watched him for a second as he thought. He just sighed, coming up empty on a response. He sat back, still watching me.
I looked back out the plane window and we fell back into silence.

He fell asleep eventually, and I still struggled to rest my eyes. I gave up eventually. I made myself some coffee and read my book instead for the rest of the flight home.