AN: Hey guys! Sorry the last chapter was so short, I wanted to make her first day at the studio and such a separate chapter. So, here's chapter 7!

Chapter 7

Today was the day. The day I go back to dance after an eight month leave. I wasn't worried about being rusty; I knew jumping about into it wouldn't be an issue; I was scared about starting at an entirely new studio. I didn't know a single person, and dancers aren't exactly welcoming to stranger invading their territory.

It was a Monday, and on Mondays was my pointe class. I decided to wear my light pink leotard, white tights, light pink wrap skirt, and black crop sweater with a twist in the front. I managed to get all of my hair into a tight bun, slid on my black sheep skin boots, and grabbed my bag containing any dance supplies I may need. I had about ten minutes to spare before I had to hop in the care, so I went into the kitchen to grab a rice cake. While I was there I figured I would start stretching now, just as a pre-class warm up. I stood on my right leg and pulled my left foot from behind me and brought it up to the back of my head. I then switched and did the same with the opposite foot. I descended into a full split and turned my body from side to side, stretching my lat's. Still in the split position, I arched my back and grabbed onto my back leg and held the pose. While I was concentrating on the feeling of my muscles loosening up, Spencer walked into the room. He just sort of stood there, not saying a word, looking everywhere but my direction. I felt strange casually sitting in such an abnormal position in the presence of a 26 year old man, so I gently unfolded myself and stood up.

"Hey, sorry I was just stretching. I'm ready when you are."

"Oh- no it's okay. I'll grab my keys. Um, by the way, doest that hurt?" He looked a smidge revolted when the words escaped his mouth, but I didn't take any offense.

"That stretch? Not really, you get use to it after a while"

Spencer just nodded and headed for the door. I trailed behind him, and down the seven flights of stairs. The car ride was relatively silent, with the exception of the engine running. About four minutes later we arrived at Critique Dance Studio. My heart was pounding. Spencer walked in with me and we immediately got an array of stares from 12 different girls. It was uncomfortable to say the least.

"Hi, this is my sister Jenna Reid and she'll be starting classes today" Spencer said some-what nervously. He doesn't seem to know how to handle himself in social situations.

"Okay, it's the third door on the left, she can go right in" The woman behind the counter barely looked up from the computer.

I said my goodbye's to Spencer, and stepped into the room where class would be held from now on. The white laminate floors were scuffed up from the hundreds of dancers that came through before me. The barre was on the same side as the door, and a mirror coved the entire wall opposite the entrance. There was a small stereo on the right side of the room, along with series of cubbies for out bags. I was so busy taking in my surroundings that I barely noticed there was a group of girls, ages ranging from 12 to 16, whispering, presumably about me. I didn't want to intrude on their gossip, so I sat down a few feet away and began lacing up my toe shoes. They were all assessing my every move, like I was some sort of science experiment. Mercifully, before any of them could approach me, the instructor barged in. She was an older woman, and very pale. Her almost black hair was pulled into a tight bun, and her outfit was completely black. She looked scary to be honest. I was told never to judge a book by its cover, but something about her seemed off.

"LINES!" She screamed, making every girl flinch. We shuffled into our own spacing at the barre and stared straight ahead. If she wasn't intimidating enough before, her Russian accent sure put an end to any speculation.

"My name is Alexandra and I will be your instructor for this season. As you are my advanced class, I expect only the best from you. I will not tolerate bad attitudes, tardiness, or laziness. When you are in my class, you will listen and do as I say. Now, I assume you already stretched before I arrived. So, first position, GO!"

I don't think I had ever moved faster in my entire life. Alexandra called out numerous positions, and soon advanced into tombe's. We warmed up for the next twenty minutes, leaving the other forty to whatever Alexandra would make us do. She gave us an across the floor combination consisting of pas de borree, glissade, pas de chat, quaze, into a triple pirouette and ending with a quad fouetee. We repeated the combination over and over again, each time pointing out a different flaw.

After a full hour of burning calves and aching toes, class came to an end. All of the girls, including myself, shuffled over to the bag area and quickly left. To my knowledge I was the last one in the room, so I took my time. I unlaced my shoes and threw them into my bag, pulling out a pair of light blue leg warmers- it was a chilly night and my tights don't offer much warmth. I slid them on along with my boots and stood up to go and find Spencer. As I was about to step out of the 'vacant' classroom, a scratchy voice chimed in:

"Hey, do you have a brush?" I turned around, slightly startled at the sudden presence. I felt bad saying no to her, even though we hadn't exchanged words during class, probably because we were to afraid to feel the wrath of Alexandra.

"Oh, yeah, here ya go" and I handed her my blue compact brush. She began stroking her hair with frustration. It was a light brown, curls reaching midway down her back. She was a very tiny girl, very, very tiny. Her bones were evident, protruding through her deep caramel colored skin. Her brown, almost black eyes seemed somewhat empty, well what I saw of them. I watched her during class from the mirror, envying the way she looked gorgeous even when sweating. She was the only person who cared to acknowledge my existence in the class, which meant something.

Handing the brush back to me, she said "Thanks. I haven't seen you around, did you switch studios?"

I wasn't anticipating a conversation, but I went along with it anyway.

"No, I just moved here about a week ago"

"Oh! From where?" She said while motioning for me to follow her out.

"Baltimore" I answered with a smile. I spotted Spencer in the reception area, but I didn't want to cut off the conversation.

"I've never been. Hey, my rides here. I guess I'll see you next week. Oh! I'm Ana by the way"

"I'm Jenna. Bye, see you next week" And with that we smiled at each other, and she walked out the door into the parked car near the curb.

"Hey how was class?" Spencer asked as we began to walk outside

"Tiring, but it felt great to be back. Thanks again for letting me do this; I know it isn't exactly 'convenient' for you"

"Nonsense, it's not a problem. I know it's late but I need to stop at work quickly to pick up a few things, would you mind coming along?

Damnit. I couldn't say no, not after he's opened his life up to fit me in. I really, really, really didn't want to go.

"Sure, you'll just have to be seen with me looking like this." I giggled to mask my absolute seriousness. I was sweaty, my makeup was presumably smeared, and I was wearing my leotard and such.

"Okay, it's not too far away, maybe ten fifteen minutes."

I nodded and we walked out of the studio and to the car. Spencer had been driving for about five minutes when I remembered the files I found the other night. I then realized I still didn't know what Spencer did for a living. I had an idea, but aside from that I was running on assumptions. I broke the now routine silence, praying he would answer truthfully. Then again, I'm not sure he has the capability of lying.

"Spencer, was do you do for a living?" I don't know why I was so nervous to here the answer, but my heart was pounding. He was quiet for a moment, most likely trying to find the words.

"Oh- I work for the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. We assist other law enforcement on the investigation of serial murders, abductions, and home invasions. We also provide a profile of the criminal-"

"A description of the offender based on his behavioral tactics, such as MO, signature, and any evidence gathered from the crime scene" The words just blurted out, I didn't mean to cut him off.

He looked back and forth from me to the road, looking a tad bit confused.

"I read a lot...sorry." I supped my hands in my lap and stared down at them. I looked up in curiosity of his facial expression. He just nodded.

"I fly around the country with my team when a case turns up, so every couple of weeks I might not be around for a few days" He looked concerned, for my safety I guess. So at any time, day or night, weekend or weekday, he could be gone for days at a time. I wasn't bothered by it, the idea of having the apartment entirely to myself sounded remarkably fun.

"Oh...well it's really cool what you do. Not just for the country, but for the victims of crimes and their families" I didn't want to tell him that sort of stuff interests me, or that I looked through his work papers. I'd rather him not think of me as a nosy freak.

By the time I finished speaking, we arrived at the FBI Headquarters; or what Spencer just called 'The BAU'. Spencer stepped out of the car and I stayed seated, I assumed I would just wait for him to get back.

"Aren't you coming?"

Shit.