AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is slightly lighter in tone - a PG rating as opposed to the previous ones. It's all about setting up the chess board, as it were. I hope y'all don't find it too slow, but I appreciate any and all feedback. I hope you enjoy the read as much I enjoy the write.

One final note- it's been a VERY long time since I played soccer(rec or competitive) and I never was much for rules, but I did try my best to get the descriptions somewhat right. I was a HS athlete myself - just in a different sport. I hope it rings true.

May, 1994.

Her palms were sweating.

She turned in a half circle, looked to her left, looked to her right and then bent in towards the other girls, her pulled tight ponytail bouncing as she ducked down low.

"This is our moment," fifteen-year-old Jennifer Jareau said, her blue eyes moving back and forth. She searched each of her friend's faces, looking for uncertainty, checking for fear.

Seeing plenty of both. Knowing that it was inside of her as well.

Hours seemed to pass before she spoke again. "We win this," she concluded. "Right now. Right here. We. Win. This."

Another pause and then Maggie Gilbert roared her approval. It sounded more like a growl, a truly primal noise. The other girls followed soon after, until it was practically a victory cry.

"Hands in," JJ ordered, feeling the energy, feeling the electricity. It coursed through her. It controlled her.

There were moments when she hated this. Times when she wanted to shrink back from the competition, wanted to step away from the pressure.

Sometimes it felt like a ten ton weight on her shoulders.

Her father had always wanted a star goalie. Her school had always wanted a championship team.

She had always wanted to be something special.

Sometimes, it was just too damn much.

But now, standing in the middle of the group, all of their eyes on her, the youngest Varsity team captain in school history, all she could think about was winning.

All she could think about was conquering.

She'd been given this position because people liked her, trusted her, knew that she'd always give everything she had every moment of every game.

She was good. Maggie was better. Senior Jess Bentley was even better, one of the most gifted scorers in the state.

She was the third best player on the team. A second year Varsity player with others above her with far more seniority.

But none of them could lead quite like she could. None of them could control things, mold attitudes. Not like she could.

She knew how to get the others to give when they had nothing left to give.

She knew how to make them win.

Her aunt said that it was a gift she'd inherited from her mother.

A natural ability to make people listen.

Their hands came together quickly, piling on.

And she realized that all of their palms were sweating.

"On three," Maggie directed, meeting her eyes. Maggie was her her very best friend. The one person she'd always been able to count on, come hell or highwater.

And now she was smiling.

Because she saw in her blonde friend exactly what she needed to see. Exactly what she knew would be there.

No matter what JJ said to the opposite.

JJ was a fighter.

JJ was a winner.

"One, two, three," JJ called out, her voice sharp, her voice demanding attention, commanding compliance.

And then together, as a team, the group cried out, "Fight like hell." The words were said quickly enough that the adults around had no idea what they'd said.

And then together, as a team, they came out of the huddle and moved back onto the field. JJ glanced over at her coach, a small man with a big smile. He nodded at her.

She turned and nodded at Maggie. Who grinned like it was nothing. Like it was in the bag.

A look up at the clock, the clock which showed a tie score with less than a minute to go said otherwise.

They were already in double overtime. The team had never really been good at kick-offs, which meant that they were already in a sudden death match-up.

In more ways than one.

It'd been an emotionally rough season full of euphoric ups and devastating downs. And now It all came down to this. A tie would drop them out of the playoffs. A win would put them in.

It was that close. It meant that much.

She trotted over to her position, between the goalposts. And took a breath. She pulled on her gloves, glad that they were covering up the sweat on her palms.

Glad that they were concealing the bleeding out of her nerves.

She hoped that there would come a time when she'd learn to control those nerves.

Own those nerves.

She turned slightly, looked towards the sidelines. And her bright blue eyes met his playful brown ones.

He grinned at her. Impishly. And then he winked.

Suddenly, she felt the fear slide away.

Good ol' David.

Her aunt was standing next to him, clapping away. Cheering her on. David wasn't saying a word. He was just looking right at her.

Not telling her that she could do it.

Telling her that she would do it.

She heard the whistle, felt her spine stiffen.

And then everyone started to move. At first slowly and then frantically. Her eyes tracked the ball, watched the violent rotation of it as it jackknifed across the field.

She jerked to the left. Jerked to the right.

The ball came towards her, but was stopped and pushed back across the line. Maggie took a shot and for half a second, JJ thought it might have a chance.

But then it was bounding back towards her and she felt her gut clench. She cracked her knuckles and waited.

It never came, instead dribbling off to the right.

She looked up at the scoreboard and flinched. Thirteen seconds left. All of that, all of that nothing, it had taken too long.

Desperation came over her first. And then the Jareau stubbornness settled down on her.

"We win this," she said to herself, her voice hard and controlled, leaving no room for argument.

No room for failure.

She felt her feet move almost before she commanded them to. Wind cracked against her cheeks as she flew up the field.

Briefly, as she ran, moving faster than she'd ever moved before, she caught sight of her brother's face.

He was laughing. He was yelling.

"Get 'em, J," he was screaming. "Get 'em."

It took her only seconds to reach the halfway line.

Seconds which meant that she now had only moments to make something happen.

She saw the ball spin up into the air, thrusting up like geyser as it bounced off the top of Maggie's head. She saw Maggie's frustration. Saw her fear. Saw her fear of failure.

But there was no time for that now.

There was only time for action.

And so as the ball came down, JJ spun, her foot and leg ending up high above her head as she tumbled backwards, down towards the earth, having completed a picture perfect bicycle kick.

When the ball went through the goal, with only one second left on the clock, she was lying on her stomach on the ground, her face dirty, blood seeping from a small scrape on her cheek.

Then she heard Maggie scream, a noise that blended almost perfectly with the loud buzz that signaled the end of the game.

All of the other sounds, well they merged together. Became one. Victory from one side, defeat from the other. Triumph from one bench, utter defeat from the other.

She closed her eyes and felt the rumble of the earth beneath her. Her teammates grabbed her, lifted her, yanked her and eventually tossed her back to the ground as they dogpiled her.

Somewhere in the background, she could hear her aunt screaming. And she was pretty damn sure that she heard David yell out, "That's my sister!"

And smiling, covered up completely by screeching girls, all she could think was, "I owned my nerves. I won."

JULY, 2007.

They had all tried to sleep, but turbulence had made that impossible. And a disastrous extended refueling stop in Atlanta hadn't helped, instead adding an additional four and a half hours onto their already long trip.

Worse, they hadn't been able to sleep on the plane during that layover because airport mechanics had wanted to check a potential problem with the wing.

They'd wanted everyone off. Told them that it was just for their safety. Promised them that they'd be quick about dealing with the problem. Have them on their way in no time.

The wing problem had ended up being nothing at all.

Which was a lot like the amount of sleep that any of them had managed to get.

As for on their way in no time, well four hours of trying to find a comfortable way to sleep in hard plastic chairs said otherwise.

Even trying to steal a few moments of shut-eye laying flat on the ground hadn't really helped much.

And so as the BAU team dragged their weary bodies through the San Diego International Airport terminal, Hotch found himself almost amused.

Almost. The clock on the terminal wall, which showed the time to be just a tick after nine, muted that mirth.

Still…

Reid looked like a rumpled ten year old. Morgan was blinking repeatedly, trying to appear awake, but failing miserably. And the girls, well both JJ and Prentiss weren't even bothering to try to hide their frequent yawning.

Only Gideon seemed fully awake.

But then Gideon also seemed a little bit like an overeager child right now.

Oscar Baron probably had something to do with that.

Hotch had never met Baron, only knew him, as most did, by reputation. But Gideon had told him stories.

More than a few. Each one more unbelievable than the last.

And yet all of them, somehow or another, undoubtedly true.

"Maybe we should check into the hotel first," he suggested to Gideon, lowering his voice just a bit.

Gideon glanced back at them, saw JJ cover her mouth with her hand as she yawned into it. Saw her blink away a shiver of exhaustion as it worked its way through her slim frame.

But it was Reid nearly tripping and falling over himself that cinched the decision.

"Good idea," Gideon finally nodded, pretending not to watch as JJ gently righted Reid. He saw her whisper something into his ear, saw the young genius flush a bright red.

And not for the first time, he wondered what was going on between them.

But then she moved away from. Not quickly, not like she was trying to hide something. More like she was letting him stand up on his own.

And he did it.

He'd been doing it for awhile now, Gideon reflected with a flash of pride.

"I know you wanted to see Baron tonight," Hotch continued, his pace still quick as they moved towards the baggage claim. They were several strides ahead of the others, enough where they probably didn't need to whisper.

But they were anyways.

A little bit like parents, Gideon thought to himself, wincing with the realization that not only was that true, but there was also nothing he could do about it.

Though if he were perfectly honest with himself, he wasn't all that sure that there was anything that he did want to do about it.

"He'll still be there tomorrow," Gideon shrugged, waving his hand dismissively.

"Okay. I'll call Detective Palmer over at the San Diego PD and let him know that we've arrived and we'll check in first thing in the morning."

"And I'll take care of getting the rental car," Gideon nodded. Then he stopped and turned to face Hotch. "I'm dad at least, right?"

Hotch just smirked and walked away, lifting his phone to his ear as he moved. Gideon watched after him for a moment and then turned and headed towards the rental car booth.

They'd all agreed to meet for dinner at ten-thirty, down at the hotel restaurant on the first floor. Thankfully, the cozy little dinner was open until midnight.

JJ had arrived first, having changed from her neat travel slacks into a pair of loose jeans and a sweatshirt. It altered her appearance from professional to almost…well…cute.

At least so Reid had thought as he'd settled down into the seat next to hers. He hadn't bothered changing, figuring why waste another set of clothes on a one hour dinner.

Morgan had arrived next, in jeans and a tee-shirt. Emily had showed up a few seconds after that, also in jeans. "You're lucky," she'd told them as she had dropped into her chair, her bottom wearily smacking against the wood seat. "I almost wore sweats."

"Did they have holes in them?" Hotch had asked as he'd come up to the table, also still in his travel clothes, sans only the dress jacket. His voice had been dry, but the joke had been obvious to everyone but Emily, who'd flushed a bright red.

And stammered out a weak, "No…no, sir."

"Relax, Prentiss," Gideon had told her, completing the team, he still in the same devil-may-care clothes that he always wore. "We all have them."

And then abruptly, JJ had snorted. Because the image of Hotch in holey sweats had almost been too much for her, especially in her fatigued state.

She'd gotten looks for that. A quirked eyebrow from Reid, a grin from Morgan that said that he'd gotten the joke.

A gaze from Hotch which told her that he had as well.

That had been fifteen minutes ago.

Now, waiting for their food to arrive, they had all lapsed into silence, too tired to even go for aimless small talk.

Finally, Morgan said, "I had a thought. About our killer."

The others turned towards him, oddly never too tired to talk about work.

And so Morgan sipped from his soda and then continued, "The layout, I think that's the key. Blonde wife, brunette husband, a boy and a girl child."

"Their ages are very specific as well," Reid noted. "The boy is always seven and the girl always five."

"So wait," Emily asked. "We're thinking maybe he was seven when something happened to his family?" Her voice betrayed her confusion, something she attributed to her exhaustion and the fact that around these people, she could show that kind of weakness.

"I'm not sure we know what we're thinking just yet," Hotch said. "But I tend to agree with Morgan. The exactness of the family, it most certainly means something."

"Okay, here we go," the waiter said as he arrived. He was a man with brown hair and light seafoam green eyes. Not handsome, but hardly unattractive either. His eyes flickered around the table, taking in the faces of each the agents. Then, he smiled shyly and began to put the dinner plates down.

Just soup for the girls. A massive hamburger for Morgan. Pancakes for Reid. A BLT for Hotch. A chicken salad sandwich on rye for Gideon.

Morgan glanced up at the man's nametag, saw that it said Tyler. And so he said, "Thanks, Tyler."

Seeming terribly appreciative for the recognition, Tyler nodded and continued putting the plates down. He stumbled a bit when it came to JJ, slopping a bit of her soup onto the table. "Sorry," he mumbled, not meeting her eyes.

"Don't worry about it," she replied immediately, using her napkin to quickly mop up the chicken noodle soup mess. Two swipes and it was all good.

Another disaster averted.

Still not looking at her, he nodded a quick thank you and then, as if uncertain that he should, he turned and asked Hotch, "I don't meant to…but did I…did I hear right? You're FBI?"

"We are," Hotch confirmed. And then showed his badge.

"Working a big case?" Tyler asked, his curiosity overwhelming him.

"We are," Gideon said this time.

"Well, if you guys need anything, I mean to help you relax when you need to relax, so you can solve the case, you let me know okay?" Tyler told them as all at once, everyone at the table saw a loneliness in the man, a desperate desire to be needed.

"We'll do that, my man," Morgan told him.

"Good," Tyler nodded. "Well then, I'll let you guys eat."

And with that, he walked away.

"Odd guy," Emily noted.

"Lonely guy," Gideon corrected.

"And I'd guess not one that has a lot of experience with the ladies," Morgan put in. Before Emily could ask him how he knew that, he added, "Did you notice how he wouldn't look at JJ? She made him nervous. And he never spoke to either of you. Only to us guys."

"He's right," Reid nodded. "And when he spilled your soup, JJ, he didn't clean it up for you because that would have meant reaching into your personal space. He's probably been rejected--"

"Guys," JJ said dryly. "You don't have to profile everyone. He's just our waiter. Let him be just our waiter, okay?"

Morgan laughed, broke off a piece of his bread and tossed it at her. She caught it effortlessly, dipped it into her soup and then popped it into her mouth, stopping only to wink at him.

And while they were reasonably distracted, Reid turned in his seat and called out, "Hey, can I get a cup of coffee, please?"

"Hey," she said, opening the door to her room. Her hair was still slightly wet, but thankfully no longer dripping water. She was dressed in black slacks and a purple silk shirt. "Come on in."

"If you're not ready yet, I can wait," he told her, stepping back towards the door. He had a cup of coffee already nestled between his palms, the aroma of it filling her nostrils.

"No, I am," she replied, opening the door further so that Reid could enter. Then she added, "You didn't have to wait for me."

For the briefest of moments, he didn't reply and then, his voice squeaking just a bit, he said, "The others went down to eat. I wasn't hungry."

She turned and smiled at him. "Give a minute, okay?"

He nodded and dropped down to sit on her bed. He glanced around the room, taking in the neatness. His room was already cluttered, but hers was orderly.

Even the sheets and blankets and her bed had been tidied up, brought up to the top. Not quite made, but damn near close.

Only the suitcase in the corner and the folders on the desk showed that the room was being used at all.

"Spence?" JJ asked as she exited the bathroom, her hair up in an impossibly intricate bun, one that to him, seemed to defy every law of physics ever created.

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?" she asked, coming up beside him.

"If I tell you that I hate that question –"

"I won't be offended," she promised.

He smiled at her. Then stood up. "We should get going. I'm sure Gideon's anxious to meet up with Oscar Baron."

"And you?" JJ smirked.

"I…might be looking forward to it," he admitted.

"Uh huh," she laughed. Then she crossed over to the closet, grabbed a black jacket that was hung up inside of it and pulled it on. "Let's go."

And as they were walking out the door, he suddenly said, "Hey, JJ, you do realize that we're in San Diego in the middle of July..."

"I'm still not going to ComiCon with you, Reid. Even if it does take place this weekend." And with that, she turned and exited the room.

After a moment, he went after her, "How'd you know it was this weekend?"

She just grinned and kept walking towards the elevator.

The six members of the BAU filed into the 5th Precinct in the middle of San Diego at just after nine in the morning. They were told by one of the desk officers that Detective Palmer wasn't yet in, but that he'd should be showing up shortly.

The officer had then directed them towards the bullpen, assuring them that a room had already been set aside for their purposes.

No sooner had they entered the bullpen when they heard a voice with a slight New York accent rumble out, "Jason, you silly son of a bitch, I see that you never did learn to dress."

They turned, as a group, to face Oscar Baron. Shrunken by eighty-two years of life, Baron's step was slow and measured, but there was an unmistakable brilliance in his eyes.

"Oscar," Gideon greeted warmly. He stepped forward and embraced his mentor, not lightly as one might have expected, but more as two young men would hug. Then, separating, he turned back to face the others. "I'd like to introduce you to the rest of my team." He pointed to Hotch and started to speak, but was stopped by Baron holding up his hand.

"No, let me," Oscar said, stepping forward. He stepped towards. "Neat suit, looks like a lawyer, doesn't have nearly the laugh lines that a man your age should. You must be Hotchner."

"Yes, sir," Hotch nodded, offering his hand.

Baron hesitated a moment, then said, "I warn you in advance, Agent Hotchner, I'm a man of first impressions. So when I take your hand, I expect you to shake it like you would if I were your father, understand?"

"Yes, sir," Hotch said again. Then he took Baron's hand. And shook it hard and firm. Like his own father would have demanded of him.

Baron smiled. "Good." He turned and moved down the line, towards Prentiss. "Slightly aristocratic in look, awkward in stance, you must be Prentiss."

"Yes, sir," Emily nodded before offering her hand. He took it. Then smiled.

"Interesting. Eager to please. I like that," Baron noted. He'd moved away from her before noticing the furious flush that had come over her face. He came up to Morgan next. "Strong, handsome, man of action. Derek Morgan."

"I would be," Derek confirmed.

After their shake, Baron said, "You are just as I would have expected, Agent Morgan. Always on your sleeve, no?"

Emily elbowed him and smirked as Baron moved on, not waiting for an answer.

He came up to Reid next and his eyebrow arched clear into his hairline. "Tail wagging like a puppy, entirely too young to be here and completely unable to stand still for longer than a second. Dr. Reid, I presume?"

"Yes, yes," Reid answered quickly, practically falling over himself as he struggled to get the words out. "I'm a…it's an honor to meet you, sir."

"The honor is mine, Dr. Reid. I understand you don't shake?"

Reid smiled, a bit awkwardly.

"Not sure I trust a man who doesn't offer his hand in greeting, but Jason does. That's good enough for me." Then he tilted his head and glanced at Reid's waist, towards his gun. "He's right though, your firearm doesn't quite match you."

"I…"

Baron waved him off. "My left foot is an inch shorter than my right, son. It doesn't quite fit me either, but I use it terribly well." Then he grinned. "If we have time, remind me to tell you about the time Jason shot a cow in the ass. It's a lovely story."

Behind them, Emily laughed. She caught Gideon looking over at her and immediately stopped herself, but her eyes were still dancing. And for that matter, so were his.

Like he'd expected his mentor to give him a few slaps upside the head. Just for old time's sake.

Reid was about to speak again when he realized that Baron had moved on to JJ.

"Prettier than she has any right to be, sharp and professional. You must be JJ. Tell me, do you have the disarming smile that he claims you do?"

Quite unable to stop herself, JJ found the corners of her mouth spreading outwards.

"Apparently you do," Baron said. He reached out and took her hand and shook it firmly. "You're always in control, aren't you, Agent Jareau?"

This time she met his question with a level gaze and a smirk.

He nodded. "Point taken." Then, turning back to Gideon, he said. "Well then, now that I've met your more than capable team, how about I introduce you to the city's family nightmare."