~ Prologue ~

~:~

Allison S. Wolfe wasn't a genius or anything.

She was smart, really smart, but not genius-smart. She also wasn't an Olympic level athlete, despite being heavily athletic. Allison wasn't the funniest, or the prettiest, or even the most daring of girls. Even though she was funny, pretty, and a bit of an adrenaline junkie.

No, Allison Wolfe was the perfect embodiment of the saying "a jack of all trades, and a master of none." There was very little that Allison couldn't do with minimal effort, but there was very little that Allison could claim she was the 'best' at.

But the one thing Allison was confident she could do was read people. She could look at a person and almost feel that they were lying to her. She could simply tell what their intentions were.

Which, considering her upbringing, wasn't actually all that surprising.

Despite this ability, however, Allison never had any intention of going into law-enforcement. The same childhood that had granted her such a…"useful" ability, had thoroughly disillusioned her from such a career.

Now, that's not to say that she thought ill of the police or government. She could understand clearly the purpose of both establishments, and wouldn't want to entertain the thought of a civilization sans them. But rather, that she wanted nothing to do with them, either.

Thus it is rather ironic that her life would come to be so intertwined with an FBI agent.

~:~

The first time Allison met Dr. Spencer Reid she had been running late to class.

This was the first coincidence in the long string of 'happenstances' that would come to define their every interaction. She didn't think much of him at the time, he'd looked every bit the studious college-student, and she was far more concerned with making it to Calculus III on time.

Her professor believed in extra-credit…in so much as a motivator of being punctual. In other words, an unexcused tardy would have dropped her borderline 'A' to a steady 'C'.

So I'm sure you can imagine her surprise when he flashed his badge at her, murmuring "FBI" before asking if she could please answer some questions about the recent fires for him.

At first she was confused-

I mean the fires were a tragedy, absolutely horrible, but they didn't really have anything to do with me.

-out of everyone on campus, why would he choose to question her? And why minutes before the one class she couldn't afford to be late to?

Her confusion must've been obvious on her face, or…well, obvious to a profiler that is, as he quickly launched into some convoluted explanation that basically boiled down to the fact that they thought the 'unsub' may have something to do with the chemistry department.

"So?" he prompted, shaking her out of her reverie.

"So?"

"The fires…do you think they could have been set by a chemistry student?"

"No." She answered, clear, strong, firm in her belief. It was clear such confidence took him by surprise, which makes sense, she supposed. Most people didn't answer hypothetical's with such surety.

"…why not?" he pressed, and she shivered as she watched his eyes rake across her face, not provocatively, rather she was completely uncomfortable with him…reading her.

Profiling her.

What does he see? she'd wondered that first time. What secrets has he picked up on?

~:~

She knew what most people saw when they looked at her, a short, young, nerdy, brunette. Most people questioned what she was even doing on campus, and why she was carrying around such odd books with her.

Part of it was genetics, she couldn't help that at 17 she looked not a day over 14. Part of it was intelligence; most people didn't like hearing that the youngest kid in their class was a year away from graduating with a double bachelor's. And part of it was just personality-it didn't help public perception that she was very childish by nature.

So yes, she knew exactly what most people saw when they looked at her. But 'most people' was not a term that one would use to describe Dr. Reid.

"Ms. Wolfe?"

"Sorry," she muttered, shaking her head to clear it of such errant thoughts, "I tend to get easily distracted."

"You know, it's a common characteristic of this day and age to easily veer off topic. Studies show that a likely explanation is the exponential growth in day-to-day knowledge we accrue, for example, did you know that one issue of the New York Times on Sunday contains more information than the average 18th century French Nobleman learned in his lifetime?"

"You don't say?"

"It's true. It's also been proven-chemically-that attention is a limited resource, and while we can train our bodies to better focus we still—

"—Dr. Reid," she interrupted with a small chuckle, "it seems like you're the one 'veering off topic' now."

She smiled as his face flushed with embarrassment, "r-right. So, you were saying?"

"Well, it's just…I don't know much about profiling you see. But I always thought arsonists thought of their work as some sort of art? Like they'd love to watch it, to make it as perfect as possible and then sit back and enjoy the show?"

"That is a common characteristic of a certain type of arsonist, that's true."

"Then I doubt it's a chemistry student, or, at least not a good student. After all, if I were the arsonist, I'd probably try to make a D-class fire. Break into the Organic Chemistry lab or something and get a chemical fire going. One that would have a volatile reaction to water. You know, make something that would last for a bit?"

At Dr. Reid's calculating expression she rushed to add, "not that I am the arsonist. I have next to no free time, definitely no time to go around burning down the University that I'm paying thousands of dollars to attend. Seriously, who does that?"

She didn't know what it was about her expression or speech that served to clear her in his eyes, but the next thing she knew he was escorting her to her class-at her behest, she didn't want her grade to drop after all-and walking out of her life.

Or so she thought.

The next day the arsonist was caught, and she can tell you her surprise when she learned it had been her Physics TA, just goes to show that you never really know a person.

And life went back to normal.

December came and went, and with-it her inauguration into adult hood. She graduated with a B.S. in Chemistry and a B.A. in poetry—

An odd combination, I know, but what can I say? I'm odd.

—that May, and decided to continue her schooling in Virginia.

One can continue a study of Chemistry anywhere, but Poetry? That is best learned from the very Poets one professes to admire. She didn't think much of her decision; she was entering into the graduate school program with high hopes.

The program she had gotten accepted into was accelerated, and-if she managed to keep up with the course work-would allow her to obtain both doctorates in four years.

Thus, it should come as no surprise that she had pushed her random meeting with Dr. Spencer Reid right out of her mind.

And why she was so surprised, in 2007, to find they shared a class.

~:~

~ End Prologue ~