Lavani-from the word "lavanya" meaning love, a popular form of folk music and dance, sung at quick tempo with drums

If there was one thing different in college from high school, it's that there are so many more people and so much else going on, that even large events can be moved past to focus on the next. By the time our fall concert had passed, there was no more mention of my armed escort out of class. No one forgot, precisely, but we had midterms and performances and everything else with college life to occupy our thoughts.

I never went a day without thinking about what had happened, just like I never went a day without thinking about what had happened with my mother and my father. But like the others, I had my studies, lessons, and projects, especially the projects I had taken on to help Hotch.

That first Sunday morning I showed up at the apartment, armed with my re-usable grocery bags, I mentally dared Hotch to comment. Wise man that he is, Hotch said nothing, got himself and Jack into their jackets, and we made an outing of it. Obviously, Hotch had kept himself alive in the months that I had been moved out, but I remembered the contents—or lack thereof—in his fridge that first night after Haley had been killed. Determined for that to never happen again, I came back every week and felt confident that my boys would be well fed.

And again, it's not that Hotch was incapable of cooking, and even though I knew the team moved heaven and earth to get him out the door on time every night, I never forgot how tired he would look coming home and how relief would come over him when he found that I already had dinner in hand. So three or four times a week, I would pick up Jack from afterschool care and cook dinner.

I never stopped to think about how much I had changed my routine or how it was affecting the rest of my life. But as always when most of your family can basically read your mind, it didn't take long for Hotch to figure it out or to call me on it.

It was a week after Thanksgiving (Hotch and I had brought Jack with us to the Morrises where Matilda fussed over the kid for the whole night) so we had just performed the winter concert and I now had two weeks before finals and juries. I had put a pan of baked ziti in the oven, had a salad prepped, and was making notes in my music theory textbook while Jack assembled a puzzle on the floor next to me.

Hotch came home, kissed Jack on the top of his head before coming over to do the same to me, to my amusement. He then went into his room to shed his suit, taking off some of the weight of his job with it. Jack helped me set the table and after dinner, Hotch cleaned the kitchen while I cleaned the tomato sauce off of Jack. Once he was set up for his half hour of television before bed, I started to pack my messenger bag.

"Got anything fun planned this weekend?" Hotch asked me casually.

"Not particularly," I answered absently, checking to make sure that I had grabbed my notes as well as my textbook. Then I gave his tone of voice second thought—maybe he had sounded casual, but Hotch just didn't do casual. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, with your concert over, you won't have practices or rehearsals, that should give you some free time."

"Free time which I'll use for studying," I told him. "Or I was thinking about taking Jack to those story time events at the library."

Hotch was silent for a moment, but he kept looking at me like there was more.

"Hotch, what's wrong?"

"Look, Rachel, you know how much I have appreciated your help lately," Hotch started.

In a flash, I mentally tallied up all the time I had spent in the apartment, everything I had just assumed or taken on without asking if Hotch needed it or even wanted it.

"Oh God," I muttered. "Hotch, I'm sorry, I just pushed in and you probably just want to spend time with Jack without me around all the time and—"

"Rachel," Hotch cut me off, reaching out to grab my hand. "That's not it all. You never need permission to be here and I will never be able to tell you what it means to me to have you around. I would not have been able to do any of this without you."

"Then what are you getting at?" I asked in total confusion.

And like the skilled interrogator that he was, instead of straight out answering me, Hotch turned around and came at me from a different angle.

"When is the last time you went went out with your friends?" he asked me.

"I had lunch with Natasha the other day," I told him.

Not that we had planned it that way, but I had gotten to work for the afternoon a half hour early and Tasha had taken a break, so it had worked out.

"What about Michael? Spencer? Any of your new friends outside of classes and practices?"

I would see Michael most nights and we always did laundry at the same time every week since the guy couldn't sort to save his life. But I hadn't seen Reid in a while, I realized. And for Anne Marie, Kira, Simon, and the others, I knew they would often grab food and hang out after rehearsals, but I had usually been headed off to pick up Jack.

And curse Hotch, all he had to do was ask the questions and let me realize what had become of my life on my own.

"All right," I admitted. "So maybe I haven't been all that social lately. I didn't even realize it."

Hotch smiled at me, a mixture of rueful and proud. "You've been extremely dedicated to taking care of Jack and me."

"I just overdid it."

Hotch's smile broadened. "Just a bit. So, let's say you cook us dinner maybe only once or twice a week, and only if you really want to."

"I can do that."

He reached out and cupped the back of my neck before giving me a gentle shove toward the door. "And please go out and try to act your age this weekend."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "You do realize that means getting wasted at a frat party at my age?"

Hotch raised his own eyebrows back. "That's why I said try. That way you'll still manage to have some fun, but since you're you, you'll be smart about it."

"I hate profilers," I told him with a smile, then I called out good night to Jack over my shoulder and headed home.

.

I had first learned about profiling from my father, naturally. I didn't learn about the actual science of profiling until after he had left and I was living with Hotch and spending more time with Reid. But even though I knew how profiling worked and had picked up some tips for myself, there were still times that I was convinced that profiliers were mind-readers and that Hotch, specifically, was clairvoyant.

The day after Hotch had prompted me to see the light, I was determined to talk Anne Marie or someone into seeing a movie or going out for window shopping. I figured we could all use a break from studying and practicing.

But practicing and studying still had to be done and since choir rehearsals were done for the semester, I hunted down an empty practice room (a miraculous feat given everyone preparing for finals and juries) and set out my flute music. I only had an hour according the newly posted rules that had gone up after Thanksgiving break. Knowing my propensity to lose track of time while playing, I set an alarm on my phone.

I was interrupted though by a knock on the door instead of my alarm. About to glare over my shoulder, I stopped mid-turn and smiled instead when I saw Matthew.

"Do you mind terribly if I come in?" Matthew asked me. "Everywhere else's full and I just need a place to make some marks."

"Tell you what, I've got twenty minutes left, so I'll play while you mark and then you get the next hour to practice while I dive into my musicianship notes," I offered.

"Excellent."

Even though it had been my suggestion, it took a few minutes for me to completely focus again, being suddenly hyperaware of just how close Matthew was given the small size of the practice room. Throw in that Matthew was a fabulous musician, kind, funny, and gorgeous…some self-consciousness was creeping in.

But eventually, the phrasing and techniques took over and I finished my practice.

"Your turn," I joked after my alarm when off. I packed up my music and flute and then took out my notebook for Musicianship, setting myself up on the floor while Matthew took the piano bench with a gallant bow.

If I thought it was hard to concentrate before, it was harder while Matthew was playing. I wasn't really concerned with my Musicianship final, so my text book didn't really keep me focused. And I kept looking up at Matthew's hands while he played…oh, I was in trouble.

I could remember feeling something like this around Mark back in high school, but it was also different. Then again, I sometimes felt like I had been a completely different person back then. So much had happened and I had gone through so much. With the perspective that only came from hindsight, I knew that the star athlete, handsome musician who practically had an entourage was not the type for me. And much as I loved Michael, we were always meant to be friends.

But Matthew Ellis…he was attractive and given what I heard from some of the other girls around campus say, I wasn't the only one who thought so, and that's not even mentioning the British accent. And everyone also considered him one of the best musicians and organists on campus. All of that was just the surface though. There was his sense of humor, the way he talked to me, earnest and curious, but willing to back off where other people might have kept pushing. But mostly, just the way he looked at me—no one had ever looked at me like that before.

My cell phone alarm rang again after an hour of distracted studying that basically accomplished a whole lot of nothing. Matthew and I each packed up our things and went for the door at the same time. We bumped into each other on the way out and I almost tripped but Matthew caught my elbow and steadied me. Caught in the door frame, there was hardly any room between us, so that I felt the places where his body brushed against mine. My pulse jumped and it was difficult to breath normally.

"Sorry," Matthew apologized, stepping back.

There was no reason for me to feel like I was colder after he stepped back, but I did. It looked like he was about to say good bye and I finally thought, to hell with it.

"Would you like to get dinner? With me? On a date?"

Dear Lord, I sounded idiotic. Had I actually planned it, I might have been able to ask Matthew out with a little more class, but probably not.

But Matthew clearly answered with as little thought as I had put into the question. "Yes, absolutely, let's do that."

I nodded in relief. "Great. So…"

And at that point, my daring failed me, but thank God and Buddha, Matthew took right over.

"So tonight seems like it's too soon and I'd look like I have no life, but wait too long and I know we'll both start to over-analyze it, so how about tomorrow?"

Matthew spoke quickly, the words just tumbling out of his mouth, but that was the only sign I could tell to see he was nervous, and I was smiling by the time he was done.

"Tomorrow night is perfect," I agreed. "Do you like Indian?"

"Love it."

We arranged a time for me to pick him up (he didn't have a car on campus) and then I beat a hasty retreat before I gave into my urge to hyperventilate. Holy crap, I had a date. Holy crap, I hadn't been on an actual date in a long, long time.

I whipped my phone out and pressed speed dial. "Tasha, I need help, like right now."

.

"Seriously, when was the last time you went on a date?" Natasha demanded the following night.

"Junior year of high school," I answered shortly, catching the dress that Natasha pulled out of my closet and threw at me where I sat on my bed.

My friend paused her perusal of my wardrobe and looked over at me with a single raised eyebrow. "The track jerk, right? But then didn't you and Michael go out on a date?"

In turn, I raised my eyebrow at her. "Michael and I ate out all the time, we ordered in even more, but we did that before and after we dated, too." And we never really called them "dates."

"Lord, give me strength," Tasha muttered, turning back to my closet.

I looked over the collection of clothing in my arms and spread out on my bed. "Tash, does it have to be a dress? You do realize it's winter?"

"So you wear leggings and tall boots," Natasha dismissed my concerns. "Here, got it."

She shoved aside all the other clothing items on my bed, stood me up, draped her chosen articles on my body and positioned me in front of the long mirror in my bedroom.

She had pulled out my dusky-rose, long-sleeved dress that I had had for years but hadn't worn is some time.

"That might not even fit," I warned her.

"Try it on then."

I shimmied out of my jeans and pulled off my sweater, then slipped the dress over my head. I pulled at the fabric around my hips, a little snug for my preferences. I looked in the mirror and realized there was also more cleavage on display than I remembered.

"Perfect," Tasha declared.

"Really?" I asked skeptically, turning a little back and forth. "It's tighter now and I'm not sure about that much skin showing up top."

"Exactly why it's perfect."

I rolled my eyes but wasn't surprised.

Natasha also rolled her eyes at me and returned to my closet. "Then wear this, too, but I think you're being too shy."

She handed me a yellow silk scarf with pink roses on it that had been my birthday present from Garcia this year. Natasha draped it around my neck and it did look very nice.

"One of these days, I will manage this on my own," I promised. "And it's not like I can't dress myself—"

"You're just high-strung and freaking out," Natasha finished for me.

I didn't even argue that point.

"All right, I'm off to my own date," she said. "Before I leave, do you need protection?"

I was in the middle of pulling my shirt over my head to get dressed, but once my brain processed her last question, I hurried out of the shirt to look at her aghast.

"I'm not going to sleep with him on the first date!" I protested.

Natasha sighed and answered me a lot more patiently than I was managing. "Rachel, I'm not saying that you have to jump the guy's bones, but by your own admission, it's been awhile, and if you get carried away, as a friend, I wanted to know that you're prepared."

True, it had been five months since the last time I had slept with Michael before we ended things. But ever since the first time Emily and Garcia had set up my appointment with an OB/GYN after the first time I had had sex, I had kept up my birth control prescription. And sure, I had waited a long time before I had slept with Mark, and it had been a really long time before I had slept with Michael, but both of those first times with them, neither one had exactly been planned.

Meanwhile, Natasha had reached into her purse and pulled out a foil packet which she then slipped into my purse. "Just in case," she told me, utterly serious. "Okay?"

I nodded in acceptance. "Okay. Thanks."

Natasha dropped her serious demeanor and grinned. "But have fun tonight, yeah?"

"You, too. Say hi to Adam."

"I would, but I'm seeing James tonight."

Yet another time that I thought I knew Natasha and Adam's relationship status and was proved wrong. I shrugged it off—neither of them ever seemed to mind the back and forth nature—and selfishly turned back to my own evening preparations.

I had showered before Natasha had come over as soon as I had gotten home from practice and washed my hair and left it to dry and curl naturally while Natasha had gone through every article of clothing I owned. Once I was dressed, I put some hair gel through my hair to tame the frizz and then started my make up, giving myself smoky eyes and applying a vivid pink lipstick and lip gloss combination that Emily had convinced me to buy. I still had on some gold hoop earrings and my mother's opal ring. I stopped to look in the mirror and seriously began to have second thoughts.

Maybe I was too dressed up, or maybe I had over-done it with the eye make up. Maybe this date was going to go up in flames, and knowing my life, literal fire wasn't just paranoia. In a moment of panic, I pulled out my phone to cancel on Matthew when I saw that I had a text from Natasha. Don't you dare chicken out.

I couldn't help but smile. And I didn't let myself turn around walking out to my car, or driving to Matthew's dorm building. Before I could get out and go to his door, I saw him exit the building and hurry to my car.

"Hi," he said, slightly breathless, but I chalked it up to his quick trip outside and the cold air.

"Hi," I said back, and my slight breathlessness could not be blamed on the cold. "Um, shall we?"

I really, really hoped he didn't notice how my fingers twitched a little on the steering wheel. Gentleman that he was, at least he didn't comment. I was also just grateful that I managed to drive us to my favorite Indian place without crashing. God, I was being ridiculous and I had no reason to be.

But I felt like all my senses were in overdrive, from noticing the smell of citrus—sweet and slightly bitter, either his shampoo or cologne, I couldn't tell—to the probably completely imagined feeling of heat from his hands as Matthew helped me take my coat off at the restaurant.

With our coats off, I saw that instead of Matthew's usual jeans, tee shirt and casual button shirt, he was dressed in charcoal pants, a leaf-green button shirt with the top buttons undone, and a gray vest. The different neckline let me notice a chain around his neck, but whatever was on it was hidden under the shirt. I briefly flashed on the thought of possibly seeing him bare-chested and finding out what was on the chain. Then I ruthlessly wrenched my mind back to the present.

Right away, we ordered some mango lassis, baigain bharta, and samosas.

"So, what do you usually order?" I asked after our drinks had arrived. Typically, I went to Indian with Garcia and Emily and was used to family style eating since both Garcia and I were vegetarian and Emily would pretend for the night.

"My favorite's chicken tikka masala or lamb kebabs," Matthew answered. "But I'll eat just about anything except for califlower."

Fair enough. I was about to suggest we each just order on our own, but then a look came over Matthew's face.

"But you're vegetarian and it's really best to have dishes we can share," he said quickly.

"We don't have to," I tried to say.

Matthew just smiled at me. "But we should share. I want to."

God, he just kept smiling at me. "Compromise," I suggested. "I don't mind seafood, how about Tandoori prawns?"

"Agreed."

With that settled, I cast around for another topic for conversation. Over the past few months, Matthew and I had talked about a variety of things from our favorite compositions to our memories of our first homes in California and England. His pet peeves included people who wore sweatpants and pajamas to classes, Kevin Costner in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, and the smell of burnt popcorn. He drank tea every day, of course, loved reading historical fiction, and turned to music no matter his mood, just as I did.

But I guess I really just had one question for him. "What made you say yes?" I froze and regretted the words. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked that."

Matthew just grinned at me though. "Because I stopped being able to think of a reason not to about a month ago. Haven't you?"

I blushed, but I pressed forward. "You were thinking of this a month ago?"

"Of course." He reached across the table and lightly ran his fingers down my hand before settling on top. "You're smart, talented, and certainly the most interesting girl I've ever met. So, yeah, I said yes."

"Well, you're not too bad yourself," I told him with a smirk. "Soon as this gets out that we went on a date, I'll start getting hate mail."

"Seriously?"

He actually looked confused.

"You're adorable," I said, turning my hand over so that our palms met and I squeezed.

Thankfully, our food arrived, helping us to lighten up the conversation when our first round of food was delivered. As we ordered the entrees, I was pleased to find out that Matthew agreed easily to the spice level I requested. It was nice to have someone else to eat spicy food with me.

I handed Matthew a piece of naan and then dipped a piece for myself into the eggplant dip. I loved Indian food. I hadn't really eaten a lot of it with my parents, they both were more Chinese takeout than Indian. But since after my mother's death and my aversion to red meat and then Garcia basically taking on her role of fairy godmother, she had started me on Thai and Indian, being a vegetarian herself.

Good British lad that he was, Matthew also apparently loved Indian food.

We kept talking and eating and laughing. We even ordered more drinks to make the dinner last as long as possible, and still I didn't want it to end. Finally, when we couldn't delay anymore, Matthew beat me to the check, but let me cover the tip when I insisted.

Matthew helped me into my coat and we walked outside. Before we could head to my car, Matthew took my hand in his.

"I know it's chilly, but fancy a walk?"

We were only a few blocks away from the bookstore and café, so I knew the area well and easily agreed.

"So, I know you live off campus, but do you live on your own or with a roommate?" Matthew asked.

"On my own, but my best friend lives across the hallway from me," I explained. I decided that Matthew didn't need to know that Rossi had arranged it that way to help keep me safe from the Reaper. Foyet was dead and that was over.

"Must be nice," Matthew said.

I smiled. "I like it. The dorm rooms don't look too bad, but I won't lie about liking my own space. What do you think?"

"They're all right. Though I'm on my third roommate."

Matthew was a sophomore. "Three already?"

"Yeah, first bloke dropped out at Christmas last year, got the second one for the spring semester. This year I'm rooming with my friend."

"Wow, Christmas is just coming up, isn't it?"

"With juries and finals, it's hard to think it'll be the holidays soon, yeah. What does your family do?"

"Well, there's the annual Christmas party at Quantico," I started. "I started going a couple years ago with Hotch and we'll see who kisses me under the mistletoe this year."

Matthew slowed down a little, tugging on my hand to slow me down too. "I think I might need a little more explanation on that one."

I laughed just thinking about it. "See, the first year I went, there was a new agent on the team," I stopped abruptly and corrected myself. "Well, sort of new. He was one of the founding members of the BAU who retired years ago and came back a couple years ago. Anyway, he started it by kissing me under the mistletoe. Then next year, Morgan, another agent, just had to corner me and do the same thing. I've heard rumors that there's now a betting pool and competition for who kisses me this year."

By that time, Matthew was laughing too.

"What about you? Going home to New York?"

"If I don't, Mum threatens to show up with a box of holiday crackers and knock on everyone's door who's still around to pass them out," Matthew explained. "But it's usually just my parents, my brother, my sister, and me. We've gone back to London to celebrate with my grandmother two times, but we usually save the pilgrimage for the summer holidays."

"Do you have any other family?" I found myself asking.

Now Matthew really slowed down and I realized his grip on my hand started to loosen. "When we first moved to New York, it was because of my dad's job. He's an international banker and was transferred. My uncle Jon was also in banking and even though he was never transferred, he came over at least once a month for business and to see us."

I watched Matthew's face in the dark night, illuminated only by the street lights, but it was easy to tell he was struggling to speak the words I sensed were coming and still maintain his composure. I knew that expression all too well. So, I squeezed his hand and leaned in a little for support.

"He was in the Towers when they fell."

I had already guessed that his uncle had died just based on his words, but hearing the circumstances was still horrible to hear. "I'm so sorry."

Matthew smiled at me gently. "I know it's not the same as losing both of your parents…"

"There is no comparing loss," I assured him. I felt like I needed to do more, so I wound my arm through his and brought my other hand up to rest on the same arm, leaning further in and just stopping shy of resting my head on his shoulder.

"Some days, I just don't know how you do it," he confessed quietly.

He wasn't the only one who had expressed that sentiment to me since I had told the college group about my parents.

"If I ever make it look easy, I'm a better actor than I think," I said, my tone deliberately light.

"No, it's not acting, I just admire it."

The raw honesty struck me to my core, and the admiration in his voice started to make me feel a little self-conscious. "I have a lot of help," I told him.

Matthew pulled his arm out of mine, but before I could think I had put him off, he instead wrapped it around my shoulders, bringing me in closer. I let him.

Eventually, I couldn't hide the fact I was getting colder and we had looped the square several times. So I drove us back to campus and parked again in front of Matthew's dorm building. For a long moment, we sat in the silent dark of my car, both of us reluctant to finally end the evening. I couldn't think of anything else to do except to walk with him to the door. And still, we stood just outside, unable to say good night.

I wanted him to kiss me, I realized with a small shock of surprise. I wanted to kiss him. However much I had protested to Natasha earlier, yes, I wanted more. I felt more alive tonight than I had felt in ages. Ever since Foyet, I had been living with such tension, unable to ever truly relax and be happy. Even now that he was dead and gone, Haley's death and helping Hotch and Jack, I had still not allowed myself to think about being truly happy again.

Hotch had been right. I needed to live my life for myself, not for anyone else. I needed to take chances.

I met Matthew's eyes, watching as he would look down at my face and then away and back again as if he couldn't decide what to do. From what I knew about him, it could be because he was thinking that I wasn't the type of girl to kiss on the first date. Or he was shy and waiting for me out of respect.

Sweet, but at that moment, I couldn't stop thinking about his lips or the smell of citrus that still lingered which I was close enough to smell. Or how dark his eyes were as they kept looking back at me.

My life, my choices, I told myself. So I put my hands on his arms and pushed myself up ever so slightly until our faces were closer. I wasn't ever afraid that Matthew would pull away, I saw the light in his eyes and how his mouth started to open. He even brought his hands to grip my elbows to help lift me higher until I was on the very tips of my toes.

The first brush of our lips was so quick, I hardly realized it had happened before it was over. But that seemed to be all it took to dispel any remaining traces of hesitation. Matthew leaned down more and brought his mouth to mine again, longer and firmer, and I swear that I could feel the sparks all the way down to my toes.

Kissing Mark had always felt like I wasn't in my body, especially the last time when I had been so desperate to feel anything. My first kiss with Michael had been strange and unsure as we changed the nature of our friendship.

But this with Matthew… it was heat and spice and sweet all at the same time without the complications or the forced feeling that it was what I was supposed to do.

Even when we had to break away for air, Matthew came back in to lay a gentle kiss at the corner of my mouth.

"I really want to invite you in," Matthew whispered, gaze locked on mine.

Just like that, I knew what would happen if I followed him inside. I saw it in my mind and felt a shiver run through my whole body. I thought of the foil packet in my purse like a promise. Had the same images flashed in his brain as well? They must have.

"But I know my roommate is there," Matthew continued, regretful and rueful all at the same time.

I smiled with my own rueful smile. "Then we'll just have to plan having dinner at my place soon."

"Soon," Matthew agreed.

We went in for another soul-scorching kiss before I took a step back. Otherwise, we might have stayed there all night.

"See you tomorrow?" he asked.

"Tomorrow," I promised.

Difficult as it was, I walked away and got into my car. I did look back and saw that while Matthew had gone inside, he was watching me. I raised a hand in farewell and then drove away. And if my lips were still tingling, well…it was from the spicy Indian food.

.

Notes:

So, too sappy? First, I figured we could use a break from the heavy emotional drama, second, Rachel deserves some genuine happiness in her life, don't you think? Matthew is my big apology to Rachel for everything else I put her through. He won't be perfect, and they'll have their own issues. Rachel is keeping some secrets from him (ahem, Gideon is alive) and no one would react well when that secret comes out.

Thanks for those who have come back to read and welcome to any new readers! Stay tuned until next week!

Cantoris