I know it seems like Riley is an emotionless robot; I've tried to go back and edit some emotions in for her but there is only so much she can feel without having it compromise all of her thoughts. I tried to portray her as this brave, strong, independent girl but I think I took it a little too far. Her emotions do get better in letter stories but stay pretty concealed throughout this story. Feel free to give more feedback!

All around her police officers were working diligently. Some were typing away on computers, others bagging evidence, and some, just sitting around talking. Seaver had seen rooms like this throughout her short career. Different places, same scene. She and her colleagues have seen so many families torn apart by events like this. Sometimes they ended with a happy ending, but more often, they didn't- just like her own family. As much as she wished, she could never go back and change her childhood. Now, with this job, the conversations about it were almost unavoidable. Looking at the young girl in the corner, she felt saddened and ashamed of herself as she did in every town or city they traveled to.

No, she told herself. No. Not here. Not now. Closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths helped Seaver calm herself. Not every case is relatable to you, Ashley. Stop making everything so personal. She changed her train of thought to focus on the girl; she was such a mystery and Seaver wanted to understand her.

Something is off about her. Her mind wandered back to the case surrounding the girl. Why didn't the man kill her too? What makes her different from her parents? Seaver looked back at her again, still asleep in her chair.

As if thinking about her made it happen, Riley's eyes slowly opened. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the bright lighting in the building, and looked around her, slowly taking in her surroundings.

Riley and Seaver's eyes met and locked for a few moments. Seaver broke the tangible silence, "Hi Riley."

At the mention of her name, Riley softened her gaze and broke eyes contact. "Hi…" she replied timidly, looking at the table in front of the agent. "Who are you?"

Although confused with the sudden change in behavior from Riley, she replied without hesitation, "I'm Agent Ashley Seaver. You can call me Ashley if you want."

"Alright," Riley acknowledged, keeping her watch everywhere but at Seaver. "Where did everyone else go?" More specifically, where did Reid go? I feel like I can talk to him; he makes me feel safe. Where did he go?

The agent thought for a moment before answering, "They went out looking for someone." She wanted to keep it mysterious; give the girl a taste of her own medicine.

"Are they after the killer? The guy who did this?"

"Maybe. It could be."

"Who is it?"

"I can't tell you that; it's confidential."

"I understand."

Riley stopped madly glancing around and looked at Ashley. She wasn't paying attention to Riley anymore, just watching the doors. Riley closed her eyes. Oh I shouldn't, she thought to herself. But it's going to happen eventually so I might as well do it now. Maybe I can trust her like I trust Reid. Opening her eyes, Riley focused on Agent Seaver.

Agent Ashley Seaver was a young woman, definitely in her early 20's. She must have just started this job recently. Her early childhood was as peaceful as any; it wasn't until her teens that problems occurred. Something completely turned her life around and that changed her. Riley couldn't pinpoint that turning point but she knew it was devastating to this agent. That's the reasons she chose this profession; she assumed her insight would be helpful, she wanted to be able to help others. But she was wrong for choosing this career- she chose it for the wrong reasons. She doesn't have wait it takes to be in this field. She feels saddened and guilty on most cases, cases like Riley's. No matter how she felt, she always kept her attitude positive when working with her colleagues; she hid her feelings as best she could and it worked. For now. Eventually though, her personal feelings and experiences were going to burst out of her and she wouldn't be able to handle all of this pressure- she'll realize she isn't as much of as an asset because of her personal experiences as she thought she could be.

Movement caught Riley's attention. Seaver saw her staring at her. Crap, she saw me analyzing her. What if she wants to know what I was doing? What is she going to say? Riley averted her gaze back to the floor and fidgeted in her seat a little. Don't act so guilty. You're just being paranoid. Maybe she didn't even notice.

"Riley?" Seaver asked.

"Yeah?" Was Riley's only response. She wouldn't meet the agent's eye.

"Riley?" Seaver repeated. "Why won't you look at me?"

"I…I don't know you…and I don't really like eye contact unless I really know someone otherwise it's threatening and awkward. It…it just makes me uncomfortable."

"Alright. But may I ask why you were looking at me just then?"

"No, I'd rather not say."

"Why not?"

"It's too hard to explain."

"I don't understand."

Yeah I don't understand it either. "That makes two of us."

"What do you mean, Riley?"

"Nothing," she replied quickly. "It's nothing. Just don't worry about it, okay? Please."

Seaver thought about the quick conversation. What was Riley up to? Why was she acting so weird? Despite not knowing, Seaver nodded in agreement. She probably didn't see my response anyway; she's too busy looking everywhere else, the agent thought with rue. Maybe I'll mention this to someone later, if I remember. Reid might understand, he spoke to her extensively earlier. Maybe she acted like that before.

Reid and Rossi walked through the sliding glass doors and entered the hospital. Only a few people sat patiently in the waiting room. The agents walked up to the semi-circled front desk and waited for a nurse to come over and help them.

A young lady walked from a back room and approached the desk. "Hello, how can I help you two?" she asked kindly.

"We're here with the FBI and we have some questions about someone who was here earlier," Rossi replied, flashing his badge.

"Alright, I'll tell you what I can. What's the patient's name?"

"His name is Mason Anderson. He was here this morning," Reid answered.

The nurse walked to another part of the desk and typed away on a desktop computer. Five minutes passed while the agents patiently waited until the nurse finally located the file.

"Yes, Mr. Anderson was here earlier this morning around 8:30. He came in with a dislocated shoulder. The doctor on duty relocated it, gave him a sling and some pain killers, and the patient went on his way."

"Do you know what time he left?" Reid asked.

"He checked out around 10:15."

"Thank you for your time," Rossi said as he turned to leave. Reid followed him and they exited the building. Once out in the courtyard, Rossi pulled out his cell phone to call the man in charge.

"Hotch, Reid and I are leaving the hospital. Anderson arrived around 8:30 this morning and left around 10:15. He left with a sling and some pain meds."

There was a pause while Hotch replied to the news. Rossi said his goodbye and hung up. He turned to Reid, "Hotch wants us to go back to the station and wait for them; they're going to bring Mr. Anderson in for questioning if he's home."

"Okay, let's go," was Reid's only response as the pair returned to the SUV and drove away.

"Mmhm. Thanks for letting me know. He must be home. Where else would he go to take a load off? You and Reid go back to the police station. Morgan I will bring him in soon. See you there," Hotch spoke to his phone as Morgan drove beside him.

Hotch hung up and turned to Morgan, "That was Rossi. he and Reid just got done at the hospital. Mr. Anderson left around 10:15 with some pain killers. He's probably at home sleeping off the pain now."

"What if he isn't there?" Morgan asked.

"Then we will wait for him to come to us. We need to ask him some questions that can't wait."

Morgan simply nodded and continued driving. Another five minutes and the agents arrived at the Anderson residence. It was a basic, one-story, newly built home; most likely built by Anderson himself considering his occupation. Not much landscaping around the home, just a few trees and shrubs here and there, nothing as extravagant as the Walker home.

Hotch and Morgan got out of the car and walked toward the house. A bright red truck was parked out front, reassuring the agents that someone was home. They both walked up the three wooden steps to stand before the front door. Morgan pounded out a nice, even rhythm on the wood.

"Mason Anderson! Are you in there?" Morgan called.

There was a series of footsteps inside the home that sounded increasingly slow and quiet. "Go around the back and make sure he isn't running," Hotch instructed. Morgan nodded, took his gun out of the holster, and crept around the side of the house.

Around the corner, there was nothing but grass and the side of the house. Morgan heard Hotch continuously calling for , but no response from inside the house came back to him. Agent Morgan continued to move toward the back of the house. He rounded the corner and stopped as he heard a bang!

The agent hid behind the corner and peeked around to see exactly where the noise came from. A man was emerging from the house through a sliding glass door. He was of medium build, but shorter than average. He wore jeans, a T-shirt, and a ball cap covering his dark, brown hair- the typical apparel for someone living in Ohio in the summer. The most interesting feature about this man was the blue sling supporting his right arm. With a backpack slung over his left shoulder, the man looked prepared to leave for a while.

Morgan slid out from behind the corner and pointed his pistol at the escapee. "Mason Anderson! Hold it right there!" he called.

Mason turned, looked at the agent, and bolted off in the opposite direction, toward a small wooded area behind the neighborhood. Morgan put his gun down to his side and chased after him. It was a short distance to the woods, but with a sling on one shoulder and backpack on the other, Mason was quickly overcome. He let out a terrified cry as he was tackled to the ground.

"Hey! You can't tackle an injured man," Mason said with his face to the ground.

"I can when he's resisting arrest," Morgan retorted.

Mason grunted in response and pushed to get up. Morgan got off him and tugged on his free arm to help him up. Agent Morgan looked at the man before him and thought, how am I supposed to handcuff him? He;s wearing a sling and a backpack. He hesitated before he shook his head and told Mason, "Come on, pick your backpack up. You're comin' with me."

"Where're we going?" Mason asked stupidly.

"To the police station. We have some questions for you."

"No way! I didn't do nothing wrong!"

"Then you should have nothing to worry about. Let's go." Morgan pushed him back toward the house.

Hotch was waiting at the bottom of the steps when the pair got back to the house. He turned when he heard Morgan and the suspect approaching from the side. Mr. Anderson looked as if he had been trampled by a wild animal; Morgan on the other hand looked quite accomplished.

"I see you found him," Hotch acknowledged.

"I caught him trying to sneak out the back. He didn't get far," Morgan replied. "It's not hard to catch a guy running with a sling and backpack."

"Hey I'm standing right here you know," Mason cut-in, indignant.

"Oh, I know," Morgan shot back.

"Alright, alright. Let's get back. We have a few questions for you Mr. Anderson," Hotch states.

Mason gave the agents a "humph" and turned his head without saying another word. He followed the agents to the black SUV they arrived in without further defiance. This time Hotch drove, Morgan sat in the passenger seat, while Mason sat in the back by himself.

Halfway to the police station, Hotch whispered to Morgan so their company wouldn't hear, "I want you to call Rossi and tell him we're bringing Mr. Anderson in and an interrogation room better be ready. Also, put you-know-who in the viewing room. I think she might be interested in seeing this."

"Gotcha," was Morgan's only reply before getting his phone out to call Rossi. Morgan relayed Hotch's instructions; there were no concerns from the other end and the conversation ended. He glanced to the back seat to see if Mason had been listening. He was looking out the window beside him; watching the scenery go by, deep in thought; if he had heard anything from the agents up front he didn't acknowledge it.

"Who was that?" Seaver asked as Rossi hung up the phone. Reid and Rossi had returned to sit with Seaver at the police station ten minuted before. The three agents sat at the large table, with case information scattered across the table top. Riley returned to her nap after the confrontation with Seaver, who had not mentioned anything to the agents once they returned.

"That was Morgan. Hotch and he are bringing Mr. Anderson in now. They want us to put Riley in the viewing room with us. Hotch must want to see how she reacts to seeing him. Maybe she'll recognize him. Or maybe he wants her impression on him after hearing about what she told us."

"Sounds good to me; I'm a little curious myself," Reid commented.

The agents looked over at Riley and saw she was still asleep. "Yeah, but how do we wake her up and tell her? And what do we tell her?" Seaver asked. "It's not like we can say, 'Hey your father's coming in so we can interrogate him to see if he's the unsub."

"Well we have to think of something soon," Rossi returned. "Hotch and Morgan are on their way back now."

Reid spoke up,"What if we didn't tell her it was her father. We could just tell her we have someone who might have done it and we want to see if she recognizes him. It's half the truth."

"That could work," Rossi speculated while Seaver nodded in agreement. "Who's going to wake her up and tell her?"

They looked at each other but no one answered. After a moment's pause, Seaver and Rossi both looked at Reid. He looked up and was surprised as he realized why they were looking at him.

"Why do I have to do it?" Reid whined.

"She explained her story to you and only you. Clearly she feels more comfortable around you than either of us," Rossi stated matter-of-fact.

"Yeah but, but," Reid stammered as he tried to think of a counter. He couldn't come up with one. He sighed and gave in, "Fine, I'll do it."

Reid got up from the table and walked over to where Riley sat in the corner. She sat perfectly still; Reid could see the steady rise and fall of her chest. He reached over and tapped the girl lightly on her arm.

"Riley?" Reid whispered. "Wake up."

The girl shifted in her seat and blinked slowly as her eyes opened. She looked around in front of her with a startled look, which soon faded as she recognized her surroundings for the second time that day. Her gaze landed on Reid and she become curious but calm.

"What's going on?" she yawned as she stretched her arms upward, obviously comfortable with him.

"Well, Morgan and another colleague of ours, Agent Hotchner, are bringing a man in to ask him some questions. We want you to come and watch and maybe you'll recognize him."

Riley sat and thought about what she was being offered. They think I'll recognize him? I can't, I didn't even see him, I swear! Maybe they really want to see what I think about whoever this is. Maybe it's some kind of trick to get me to talk about how I do the things I do…Maybe that girl told them about how I acted around her and now they're suspicious of me…But regardless, don't I want to see who they are bringing in?…I do…

"Okay, I'll come," she decided out loud. Just don't say a single thing. You know what to do. Keep it in your head.

Reid stood with a small smile, "Good, follow me."

Riley followed the agent around the corner and down a long, dull hallway. The walls were covered in gray paint, nothing interesting or creative about them. This whole building seemed lifeless to Riley, she always loved to look at the colors and creativity in buildings. In this building, there was none, and Riley despised it. There were four doors down the narrow corridor, two on each side. Each door was a darker gray than the wall and had a small window near the top.

The pair entered the first door on the right. It was a small, gray, square room with a few chairs and a large window on one wall. Through the window was another blank room with similar gray walls, a table, and two chairs facing each other. I don't think this place can get any more exciting, Riley thought sarcastically.

"Wait in here. We'll be back in a couple minutes," Reid told her.

"Who am I waiting for?" she asked before he closed the door and left.

Reid stood in the doorway and thought of how to respond. He couldn't tell her it was her father; he could give his name but she probably knows him-she said she did earlier. "Just wait," was all Reid could come up with before he walked away, leaving Riley alone in this mysterious room, with an even more mysterious problem in front of her, who will come into that room?