A/N: Here's number one people – it seems really long and Spencer isn't in it (sad, I know, I'm sorry!) But you get a feel for the character and the plot begins!

Disclaimer: I wish it was mine. I really, really do.

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Take good care of my baby,

Don't you ever make her blue,

Just tell her that you love her,

Make sure you're thinking of her,

In everything you say and do

Take Good Care - Bobby Vee

XXXX

Eden's phone was vibrating.

Boxes were everywhere, labels messily scrawled in enthusiastic loops on the cardboard. She was sat on the floor, attempting to alphabetize her CDs, literally surrounded by all the crap she deemed important enough to bring back with her to the good ol' U.S of A.

And her phone was vibrating.

"Seriously?" She quirked an eyebrow at the offender, roughly shoving herself off of the wooden floor and hurling over the first box, successfully stubbing her toe, before choosing to dance around the rest with more caution, biting curse words on her tongue.

By the time she got to it, the ringing had stopped.

She was not impressed. And she refused to let her efforts go to waste. Picking up the mobile (cellphone, damnit, she was in America now!) she hit return call and waited with curiosity as the line rang.

She wasn't exactly sure who it was that could be interested in calling her at that moment in time, hardly anybody knew of her return to the States and she would have recognised a number of a family member… and this number was American.

So who was it?

They picked up on the third ring, and the voice on the other end startled Eden.

"Agent Hotchner."

It was deep and serious and Eden all but had a panic attack then and there. Agent? As in, Federal Agent? She took two deep breaths, trying to retrace her steps in her mind. Her visa was valid, she was there to study and as far as she was concerned had no involvement in any kind of dodgy drug trafficking or homicide.

Wrong number, maybe?

She willed herself to speak.

"Hi, uh, sorry to bother you –" except that, you know, he'd bothered her first, "- this is Eden Summers, I received a phone call from this number a moment ago?" Her voice was polite, masking her lack of confidence (though how well, she wasn't sure) and she nibbled her lower lip as she awaited Agent Hotchner's reply.

"Miss Summers, hello – I'm glad you could contact me so quickly."

"No, I'm sorry I missed your call in the first place. My apartment's posing as an assault course right now and my kitchen appliances attacked me – took me down but I came back fighting and, well, here I am…" There was a slight silence on the other end that lasted a little too long to be comfortable. God, that was an unnecessary amount of information… What if he thought she was crazy? Can the Bureau snag you for that? "Sorry, I'm a little nervous here. Why is the FBI contacting me, exactly?"

"The FBI isn't," Eden could have sworn there was some kind of amusement in his tone, "I am. My name is Aaron Hotchner; I believe you know my son, Jack, from your work placement the year before last? Do you remember him?"

Eden could hear the pounding of her heart in her ears, thudding dramatically. She did remember him – small, sandy haired, cute as a button. She'd been assigned to help him with further English since his reading was so high above standard. That was when she'd gone to the junior school – Lincoln's –for work experience. The boy had all but stolen her heart.

"Yes, of course I do, I did some one-on-one work with him to further improve his reading skills. Did something happen? Is he ok?" The words were rushed as she tried to string together some comprehensible reason why he would be contacting her concerning his own son, drawing up a blank.

"He's fine, though I appreciate your concern. I'm actually calling to see if you'd consider interviewing for the position of his caretaker while I'm occupied at work. I've seen a lot of candidates already and none of them seem to be quite right. When Mrs Thomas informed me of your return to the city I thought it might be worth chasing you down on the off chance you'd meet with me?"

Eden didn't reply, shell-shocked into silence. She was studying for her doctorate so she had the time, more than enough time, it was just that, well, it was so out of the blue. Things like this didn't happen usually, not like this.

But she knew Anya Thomas, she was Jack's teacher – well, old teacher now – and was a kind and loving woman. She wouldn't hand over her details to a stranger. And Anya knew Eden had returned to the city because she had asked her to keep an eye out for any job prospects…

She just thought she would be informed about any choices she made.

Apparently, she had been silent too long, because Aaron began speaking again.

"I realise this is a sudden and strange request, which is why I'm asking that I meet you first in order for both of us to be comfortable with moving any further." Out of context, that statement could be completely misconstrued, she thought aimlessly, "But Jack remembers you. You're still his favourite teacher."

Well, damn – and she was supposed to say no to that how, exactly?

She couldn't. And that, she knew, was the point.

In all fairness, what did she have to lose? As she was thinking, she began to boot up her laptop, fingers poised and ready to Google as she kept the phone securely between her shoulder and ear. "Uh, sure – I mean, I guess it couldn't hurt…" She bit her lip again and let the silence stretch a little, "I might sound a little less hesitant when I've finished Googling you. That, or I'll be hanging up, result-dependent and all…"

He let out a slight laugh and it coated his reply, "Now that, I can assure you, is something that makes me feel all the more comfortable about this." Well, at least he wasn't trying to hide anything. And, according to the list of articles and acclimations, he had no reason to. Everything checked out for the Unit Chief of the Behavioural Analysis Unit. "Jack has soccer training in Regents Park tomorrow – it'll be early but if you meet me there then we'll have an hour of time that I can actually secure on my schedule as uninterrupted. And it's a public area, plenty of directions to run in if you feel the need."

She laughed, a little nervously if she was honest, but he seemed nice and apparently genuine (how much effort would it take to fake so much about yourself on the internet? She didn't know – science and technology were not her strong suits.)

"Hmm, I don't know, how early is early, exactly?"

"Eight."

She let out a short laugh, "So much for the weekend! That is harsh!" She laughed again and faked a slight sigh, "Please, tell me there's coffee at least?"

Aaron laughed, "In abundance."

Eden smiled. He seemed nice from what she could hear and her Google results had all been positive from the cursory glance she'd cast… did she have anything to lose? Other than her life, if this turned out to be some kind of horrible 30s mafia film-inspired kidnap?

"Where there's caffeine, there is Eden Summers! I'll see you bright and unspeakably early, Mister Hotchner!"

She could have sworn she'd heard a sigh on his end, though the tone of it, she was unsure. Relief, maybe? Or was that just her ego talking? "Thank you, Miss Summers. I look forward to it."

XXXX

Despite the fact that she had nothing to do (having given up on her packing after the betrayal of her kitchen wear) Eden found that the morning came faster than anticipated. The alarm clock glared at her as it violently shrilled and for a moment she simply stared in confusion, her hair a tangled tumble across her face. She slapped a hand down clumsily and silence ensued.

Why on earth was she getting up at seven o'clock intentionally? Did an AM version of that time even exist anymore?

It took a moment for it all to come back as she laid there, eyes trained on the whitewashed ceiling, and when it did she released a small breath and allowed herself to smile. Today she had a purpose – something tangible to attend to that did not involve any version of packing, unpacking or repacking – and that surprisingly felt nice.

Which was weird.

She was a student still; nothing was supposed to make the morning feel nice.

But after the lazy summer she'd had, a confusing and long summer that was somehow only half over, the potential for change, the potential to actually have some kind of drive, felt good. So she got out of bed, no-narrating-groan to be heard, and dragged herself to the shower, hoping beyond all hope that her good feeling would be justified.

And that he wasn't an axe murderer.

Because, y'know, that could be awkward…

XXXX

Training for Jack's soccer team had begun at quarter to and was well underway by the time Aaron Hotchner felt a tap on his shoulder. He had planned it to be this way, not wanting Jack to notice his old teacher and dad speaking in case he got his hopes up and things didn't work out.

Though Aaron really, really hoped they would. Finding a suitable nanny in DC? Not as easier as you would think.

Especially for a slightly paranoid perfectionist like Agent Hotchner who, admittedly, had higher expectations than the usual, run-of-the-mill nine-to-fiver.

"Excuse me, Aaron Hotchner?"

Her voice was sweet and served to remind him that she was only young – twenty-three now, according to Jack's old teacher – and while she sounded slightly hesitant there was a cheerfulness to the tone that he recognised from their phone conversation. It was something he had found indescribably enjoyable simply because, in his line of work, it was unique.

If not extinct.

He turned and allowed a smile as he reached out to shake her hand, "Yes, hello. You must be Miss Summers."

Grinning, she shook his hand firmly, though considering how small her hands were it didn't move him much. "Eden, please – Miss Summers makes me feel like I should be roaming graveyards at night with something wooden and pointy. And knowing me I'd manage to splinter myself." She let out a laugh that clued him in to her nerves and couldn't help but be amused.

She was energetic. And extended sentences to create a feeling of familiarity and comfort between the two of them. Aaron raised an amused eyebrow at what he was sure was a habit born from socialising alone from a young age. No siblings, he assumed. Judging by the sheepish expression that overcame her, she noticed. "Sorry," she held her hands up in defence, "Nervous. It goes to my head. Though at least I know now you are who you say you are! Can't fault the internet on that front – if things had been different Google images may have saved my life today." He let out a laugh that sparked his dark eyes, though it was an understated one, as though to not draw attention to his happiness. Eden noted that he looked much younger when he was smiling.

But that was beyond the point.

"You'll have to excuse the outfit: I realise it isn't typical to wear to an interview but I figured high heels and a pencil skirt wouldn't have been particularly conducive to a successful escape mission. And, y'know, the weather's so nice."

Hotch took the moment to survey the young woman before him. She was small in stature, the top of her head barely skimming his chin, causing her to tilt her neck back when addressing him. 5'2, he'd have guessed, with maybe a little in it either way. The summer dress she wore was sweet and conservative, holding to the noticeable curves of her slim body and her skin was pale and stereotypically English-rose like. The warm yellow colour suited her, giving off a friendly disposition. Sunny. He wondered if that was subconscious or another attempt at breeding familiarity.

Her eyes were doe-like as she looked on at him, her head tilted slightly, and a rare ivy green Hotch hadn't seen before – complemented well by tumbling dark curls and a heart shaped face. The most noticeable thing about her though was her smile. Full, crimson lips parted and white, straight teeth beaming at him jovially.

She was very pretty. And not in the least intimidating.

Hotch wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"No, of course. Though I have to admit this is probably the most informal you'll find me," he gestured to his casual polo shirt and ¾ khakis, "as my job calls for a certain amount of professionalism, as you can imagine." He smiled at her and noticed that, while her stance was open and confident, the worrying of her lip suggested an increased level of anxiety. Did she think he was hinting that she was unprofessional? Or was she worried about the prospect of working for someone that carried so much risk? He tested the waters, "Yours, however, may call for something a little less cherished; Jack is nothing if not active."

The smile was back, along with a short, relieved laugh and Aaron was grateful. He liked Eden so far, and better than that she already knew his son. There was a rapport there, separate from any other of Jack or Hotch's relationships.

And she seemed sweet. Something that was often underappreciated in society and harder to come by than you'd think.

"And I'm nothing if not ready to be challenged. Besides, coach," her amused glance flitted from his eyes to the whistle around his neck, "if soccer's his game then he's my kind of guy! How long has he been playing now?" Eden followed his lead to begin walking away from the young children who were clumsily practicing their drills and pulled her sunglasses from her head to perch on her face as they entered direct sunlight, Aaron's hand guiding her by the middle of her back.

He smiled fondly at the memory of Jack's first practice, noting the strange American term in her British accent, "Every Saturday for the past six months. I try to be here as much as possible, especially when there's a game. My co-worker, Dave," he gestured to an older man, still in good shape with obvious European ancestry, stood with a clipboard by the running children, "agreed to be my assistant coach but when we're away on a case and neither of us can make it they call in one of the other parents to lead and Jack's aunt Jessica brings him by, if she can."

They could still hear the sounds of training in wind, accompanied by laughs of younger children on the swings nearby and cries of 'higher! Higher!' as their parents attended to them. Eden was still smiling and Hotch couldn't help but think it was one of the nicest habits he'd come across in a long while.

He continued, "However, Jessica just accepted a new position in her law firm that no longer allows her the flexible hours she had before. It's the main reason I'm reaching out for full time help."

"I take it being called away is pretty common in your line of work then?" She didn't want to mention the Bureau, figuring she didn't know enough about American law enforcement to partake in a stimulating conversation about it.

Aaron laughed humourlessly, "Perk of the job. The thing I most want Jack to have in his childhood is a form of stability. Between Jessica and myself we managed that for a time, but with her new position and my career an adjustment has to be made. I think you could give him that." His eyes searched hers as they walked, penetrating through the frames on her face, "The fact that you're already familiar with him is an added bonus."

Eden nodded in understanding, unable to help the question circling her mind throughout their conversation but unwilling to bring it up. Last time Eden had been around, so had Jack's mother. Actively. "So what would my job entail, exactly?" She pushed the thought away.

"Around the clock care. I won't lie, I'm away from home much more than I'd like to be, ranging from two to seven days at a time. It doesn't happen always but the amount of time that it does would require you to be with Jack, night and day."

Hotch noticed a dark brow leap above her glasses, "So I'd be a live-in nanny?"

"Yes," he replied bluntly, and Eden got the feeling that beating around the bush was never a problem with the agent; symptomatic of his job, she figured, "You'd be living under my roof, free of charge, in order to be there when I'm called in at the last minute, which also happens more often than I'd like. Could you deal with that?"

Eden grinned, "I don't know; you don't sleepwalk or anything, do you? No chronic snoring? Obnoxious teenage neighbours with a penchant for heavy metal?"

Hotch laughed, but the profiler in him noted that she'd avoided answering the question, a technique to allow her time to process the information. "Not that I've ever been made aware of, on all counts. And if it makes you feel any better, you're room has en suite so no potential for embarrassing episodes there," she laughed and he added as an afterthought, "Should you choose to accept the position, of course. Salary is the same you'd earn for being the assistant teacher in Jack's class, again, since I heard a rumour they're looking to hire and you'd be eligible as my employee for every benefit offered by the Bureau. And I assure you, they're more than generous."

Eden let out a loud laugh, "Why, Agent Hotchner, are you attempting to bribe me?" Her head cocked to the side.

"That depends. Is it working?" He grinned, they're walk taking them round the bend of the park, allowing them to begin circling back to the training section.

"Shouldn't a Federal Agent know better?"

"When it comes to my family, I don't fight fair." Unbidden, the memory of Foyet and Haley's death drifted to the forefront of his mind, and Hotch clenched his fists as though he could feel the slip of blood between them. Eden noticed the seriousness in his demeanour and let her own worries rear a little.

"Be honest with me, Aaron – other than being there in every way I can for Jack, what else are you looking for from me? What is that you need that a hundred experienced applicants didn't give you that you think I can?"

She was more perceptive than he had given her credit for. Good. That levelled against the aura of innocence she conveyed. He just looked at her for a moment, and Eden could see the hint of surprise in the lifting of his features. She smiled, but this time with a closed mouth, almost ironically, "I'm studying for a PhD in Literature, Agent Hotchner – I know subtext when I see it."

They were half way back to their starting position now and Aaron shocked Eden by stopping them dead in their tracks, turning to face her straight on. Eden got the distinct impression she was facing an authority figure and put her sunglasses back on the top of her head, pushing dark chocolate curls out of her face. This was serious. And while Eden wasn't usually comfortable with stoic conservationists or heavy moments (often having to fight the uncontrollable urge to laugh manically for no apparent reason) she steeled herself for this one.

Because, she could tell, it was going to be a doozy.

"Haley told me once that there was a man that came into school to collect his daughter at the end of the day, only he didn't have any identification and the principle wouldn't let him take her." Eden nodded, remembering: none of the staff had ever seen him before and the lack of positive ID rendered them legally obligated to reject his claim, "He got violent, and moved to attack her. You stepped in front of her and took the blow."

"I can't believe you remember that." It was true, she had, but it had been her last week on placement and she knew that her turning up with a bruised face would disturb the children a lot less than if the principle did. She was supposed to be a figure of strength and stability for the school; if she looked injured, then the children would feel injured. And Eden didn't want that. She started to explain that to Aaron but he cut her off.

"That speaks to a protective instinct within you that, in usual circumstances, would be worrying. Selfless acts like that are often the downfall of good people. For the caretaker of the son of an FBI agent however-"

"It's a prerequisite." Eden met his eyes, trying not to let her gaze wander as it often did when she was thinking. Staring aimlessly may not have been physically productive but Eden found it both mentally stimulating and strangely therapeutic. But she wasn't afforded that luxury as Hotch took the time to search her face for a reaction. Eden didn't have to wonder what he was looking for: Google had taught her that much in her search of him.

"I can teach you self-defence, at least enough to incapacitate an attacker and allow you time to remove Jack and yourself from the situation. I'll be on your speed-dial, a special line for emergencies that you'd only need to select in order to activate a GPS alert. I can have someone with you in minutes; seconds even." Eden folded her arms, a sudden chill coming over her, raising goose-bumps along the bare, pale skin of her arms. Arms that she realised looked incredibly skinny in light of the information the man in front of her had just re-laid. "I would love to be able to tell you that all of those things are for a far off, hypothetical situation, something you'll never actually need. Hopefully, something you won't need. But I'm not going to lie to you, there is a chance the situation will become very real. And the reason I want you is because I think you could handle it."

Inhaling deeply, Eden spoke quietly, not wanting to anger or upset him but feeling that she deserved an answer; "Did the hypothetical become reality for Haley?" He did bring her up first, after all.

Hotch schooled his features into a mask of no emotion and simply answered, "Yes."

Eden looked away from him this time and the profiler in Hotch told him to keep his eyes trained on her even as she did, a subconscious attempt to convince her to meet him there once again. But she was unsure. It was so much responsibility to consider. Her eyes found the children on the swings, carefree and cheerful, like her own childhood had been. Two parents, only child, well-loved and cosy. Only, her own mother had passed on when she'd turned five – the same age as Jack was when Haley had passed – and her father had dealt with it alone for so long. He'd coped, but it was hard.

She'd had an amazing childhood, in spite of that, her dad living off state benefits and the money the small IT job he'd worked from home. Didn't Jack deserve the same?

Her eyes found him, laughing on the makeshift pitch as he high-fived Dave, the assistant coach. He was such a lovely boy, could she really leave him now that she knew the potential danger he was in?

Could she really walk away and trust that someone else would protect him like she would now? Could she just leave him and have faith that there was someone out there better for this job?

Her eyes met Aaron's again.

"And how, exactly, does speed dial work again?"

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