A/n hello all, here's the next chapter. Thanks to all who've reviewed or added this to their alerts.

Disclaimer: See Chapter one.

He's home tonight. I didn't think he would be. I never expect him to walk through the door when the work day is done, but he came home today. My homework for Economics 101 was forgotten when I glanced up at the cameras. The motion sensor on the tiny hidden camera angled at his front door lit up a light on my computer. I began watching him move around the apartment. The cameras are state of the art and working just the way I thought they would. I turned on the speakers and adjusted the sound so that I could hear what he said.

He's feeding the little canary in its cage. The bird is green and gold and it put up an un-holy fuss when I "invited" myself into his apartment to set up the surveillance cameras. I can't understand why he would want a noisy little bird like that fluttering around in a cage. It isn't like he can take the bird out for walks or pet it. I just don't get the attraction. He's talking to the bird and it makes me smile. I sometimes wonder if he's too good to be real. Has the FBI built the perfect profiler out of snips, and snails, and puppy dog tails?

Anyway he's in the kitchen now. I remember the first time I saw a video tape of him. I thought that he probably never eats, but I was wrong. I would kill for his metabolism. He actually cooks when he's home, and it isn't simple little meals. His kitchen is neater than I've ever seen. It has light yellow walls that pick up the sunlight that comes in through matching blinds over the south facing window. The counter tops are laminate in dark blue. The tile floors are a cream and white pattern. He must have charmed the landlord into doing some remodeling. My kitchen is still in the dark ages, but I digress… He has stainless steel appliances, and an array of knives, and pot and pans that would make a chef weep with jealousy.

He's finished with his dinner preparations. It looks like he's just having a sandwich tonight. It looks like ham and cheese, and probably tastes better than the cheeseburger I'm eating from the Burger Barn. He sits and stares at the wall while eating. I don't know how a person can just sit and eat. I need a book or TV to entertain my brain.

The bird is chirping again. I told you that it's annoying. He goes over to the cage and starts talking to the bird again, as though it's a little child. I almost laugh. He's such a sweet and caring person.

He's back at the table and he finishes his small supper. He cleans up the small mess and heads into the living room, just like every night he's home. There is a bookcase along the north wall of his living room that covers the entire wall. It is the biggest bookcase I have ever seen in my life. He has books of every kind you can imagine. There are poetry books, and books on history, philosophy, and art. He has several of the latest best sellers of fiction, which was a surprise to see. He even has several bodice ripping romance novels.

He has an entertainment center along the west wall with a big screen television and a DVD player. There are only half as many movies alphabetized in the cabinet. The bookcase and the entertainment center are stained black, and match the black leather couch and easy chair. The triangle shaped coffee table is glass in the center, and the same black wood as the entertainment center and the bookcase. It should be depressing, but there are red, dark blue, deep purple and, gold throw rugs and pillows scattered over the carpet and the furniture to keep it colorful.

His bedroom has a double bed with an ebony head board and foot board. The bedding was a surprise, silk sheets in gold and red with matching pillow cases and comforter. There is another black leather easy chair in one corner of the room. He has a second bookcase along one wall and a computer station at the other. His closet is ruthlessly organized with all of his clothes arranged by color and then by use. He has exactly two pairs of jeans and three tee shirts. The rest of his clothes are work clothes or the assistant professor look as I like to call it.

I don't know what his bathroom looks like. I couldn't bring myself to put cameras in there, despite the temptation and the explicit orders of my boss. I'm already crossing the line. I'm not going to leap right over it now. I shouldn't let it bother me. I have a job to do, but I'm finding it very hard to not feel something for this awkward young man.

--

"Why did you lock the door, you little bitch. I told you I won't stand for a locked bathroom door."

"Mama… please don't I promise I'll remember next time."

"What were you doing in there? Only sinful little girl lock doors. I won't have that kind of behavior in this house."

Her head rocked back from the force of her mother's slap to her face. Her hand left a stark red print on the pale white skin.

"Mama…"

"I'll teach you…"

She passed out fifteen minutes later when her mother landed the last punch to her gut. Her twelve year old legs buckled, and she hit the floor and fell into blackness.

--

The ringing of my cell phone pulled me screaming from another nightmare. My heart was going so fast, I felt like I had run several miles in my sleep. My cheek hurt from lying on the desk. At least that is what I told myself. It wasn't the ghost of pain from that long ago slap. It couldn't be… She was gone…. The phone rang again like an accusation and I looked at the clock. I was late for check in with Stanford. He was going to be pissed.

I picked up the phone and said "Hello Stanford, can't you get a life instead of hassling me." My voice was steady but irritated.

There was a long pause on the line and then a voice said. "Ah… is this Amy?"

Damn… it was him. It was Reid. I hadn't been paying attention to the line indicator that activated the trace on his home line. The light was on, a lot of good it did me now.

"Oh… ah yeah… this is Amy. Who is this?"

"It's Reid… I mean Spencer… I mean its Dr. Spencer Reid."

"Oh right… I didn't recognize your voice, Agent Reid."

"It's okay… I ah… I was just calling to see… I wanted to know if you still wanted to go for coffee sometime."

I can see him standing by the wall mounted phone, chewing on his bottom lip and looking absolutely adorable. Wait… I can't think things like that. I have to focus on the job at hand.

(You're worthless you little bitch. You've never done anything right in your life.)

"Um… Amy… Are you still there?"

I heard his voice from a long way away and shook my head to clear that voice out of my mind. Not now, I couldn't have the distraction now. I had to concentrate.

"Yeah… I'm fine. I guess I didn't think you would call me." There was silence on the line again, but I thought that I could hear him breathing very fast. "Agent Reid… Are you still there?"

"Yeah… I just don't know why you would say that."

"What… That I didn't think you would call me. You're very cute. You're a big time FBI agent and all. Why would you call me for a date?"

I was looking at my computer screen and I could see that he was blushing. I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line and it made me want to laugh. He's really cute!

"Are you k-kidding, y-you're so p-pretty. I t-thought you would s-say no or laugh and h-hang up on me."

"Dr. Reid did you forget that it was me that approached you?"

"N-no I g-guess I thought… well I don't k-know what I t-thought."

"Don't worry I want to go out with you or I wouldn't have asked. How about Friday morning, is that okay?"

"Oh… okay… as long as I'm not on a case."

At least he'd stopped stuttering, but he was still very red in the face and he was pacing the floor of the hallway to his bedroom with the phone in his hand. The damn bird was chirping in the background and I wanted to strangle it.

"Good… How about seven thirty. I have a very early class."

"Sure that sounds good. Where should we meet? Do you want me to pick you up?"

"No… I'll meet you at the Starbucks near the Metro stop on 9th."

"Okay… um I guess it's a date."

"Yeah… it is. I'll see you on Friday, Dr. Reid."

I shut my phone and laughed when I saw Agent Reid punch the air with his fist and yell "Yes," to an empty apartment. He really was adorable.

I opened my phone and dialed up Stanford. I told him that contact had been established with Agent Reid. He wanted to know all about it and how fast I would be able to accomplish my mission. I told him that it was going to have to be slow and delicate. He wasn't happy with this answer, but I told him he would have to wait. I'm the best person for this job and he knows it.

I finally got him off the phone and went back to watching Reid, who'd gone into his bedroom. I switched over to the camera in the bedroom and saw that he was stripping out of his work clothes. He already had taken off his shoes and his mismatched socks. He was taking off his tie when I tuned in. I should have turned off the camera, but I couldn't stop watching. He pulled off his sweater vest and then unbuttoned his white dress shirt. His chest was smooth and thin. He didn't have six pack abs like some of the men I've seen on television and in the movies, but I like his lanky body. He took off his cords and then slipped off the white cotton boxers he wore. I haven't blushed in five years, but I could feel my face getting hot. It was time to turn off the monitor and take an ice cold shower.

I went to my room and changed for a shower. I decided that from now on there would be no more peeping like an over hormonal teenager. I would watch the bedroom only when my target was fully clothed. Yeah… that would work! Right….

I repeated this mantra to myself till I finished my shower and got dressed for bed. I stood for a long time looking in the mirror and wondering if what he said was right. I decided that he was just being nice. I was ordinary with shoulder length dark blond, or what I like to call dishwater ugly blond hair. That hair was still up in the clip I'd put in it to take a shower. There were tendrils of hair that were wet and sticking to my neck. My makeup was washed away, and my face was pale with big green eyes. Guys didn't like green eyes, did they? They liked blue eyes, right? I bet Spencer likes blue eyes. I wish I could be confident and talk to someone like Spencer when it didn't involve playing a part for work.

It occurred to me that I should be concerned at this longing for approval from my target, but I was too tired to worry about it. It would still be there in the morning.