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I received a scathing glare from Stephenson, and I couldn't help but flinch a little inside, and I outwardly bristled. His tone was brittle and smothered in subdued anger and he spat out, "You're late."

I raised an eyebrow and lilted, "No, sir, as a matter of fact, you told me to be here within the hour. You called me at 6:56am, and I got to work for 7:47am. I still had just under 10 minutes. If you wanted me in earlier, you should have shortened my delegated time frame."

My tone was completely smart-arsey and I knew I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. I didn't like being accused of shit I didn't do. Especially considering I didn't even really like Stephenson. He's my Captain, so I showed him the necessary respect and loyalty, but I really didn't like the way he handled his team. A Captain's team are supposed to be an extension of himself, and if we took that in a literal form, he really didn't give a fuck about himself.

He stood at around 6 foot, and was broad and beefy enough to scare half of his quarter into being his bitches. His hair was a light brown, and matched with his forest green eyes, he wasn't bad on the eyes, but his personality truly made the monster inside him slither out. He was rude, loud, boisterous and just plain unprofessional when it came to the workplace. Don't get me wrong - there was never any sexual or emotional harassment, because most of the females in this department could, and probably would given the chance, kick his ass 6-ways to Sunday.

After my sassy counter to his obvious attempt at embarrassment had his purple in the face and a vein popped in his temple. Before he could speak, however, a knock on the hard-wood door, and both out attentions diverted onto an unsuspecting Detective Morgan.

"Stephens- Oh, my bad, sorry. I didn't realise you were busy. I'll come back later."

Just as he closed the door, I called out, "Hey, no, we're finished, go ahead - he's all yours, Detective."

I stepped out of Stephenson's office with a grin plastered to my face, and a newly energised pep in my step. After my back and forth with Stephenson, I felt a burst of life surge through me. Knowing that I had brought one up over him made a warm glow flitter through my body, and I found myself feeling rather positive, although the days that had preceded today hadn't been happy ones.

Instead of walking to my desk, I walked straight to the self-serve kitchen of sorts, complete with a mini-fridge, sink and coffee machine, of which I would fully exploit. I switched on the machine, and waited until it sounded off, alerting me to the water being boiled inside. I unsheathed a sachet of coffee, and two packets of brown sugar, and emptied them into the mug I had specifically bought for occasions such as these. I pressed the circular button, and watched as a trickle of boiling water fell into the mug, and smiled in satisfaction when it was done.

I used a small spoon and circled it in the mug, fully fusing the coffee and sugar molecules with the water ones, making the perfect cup of coffee. I carried it carefully to my desk, wary of spilling a single drop as well as making sure nobody was within my perimeter as to not recreate yesterdays mishap with Reid.

Thinking of the deductive detective, I wondered idly if he was already in the office, and glanced once around to see if I could see him, and frowned a little when I couldn't see him. I shook my head and cursed myself for being so stupid. I mean, he was part of the FBI, and he probably had better, more interesting things to do pertaining to the case - so why did I feel my good mood deflate a little when I couldn't find his mop of messy dark brown hair, or his more-green-than-hazel eyes?

I plopped back in my seat, and slipped my legs under me, but not before kicking off my heels, and tucking them under my desk. I pulled out a small notebook, and uncapped the nearest pen, running over my previous notes quickly; quicker than the average woman, mind you, and delved straight into my work.

Before I was able to truly get into the groove of things, I felt a light tap against my shoulder, and when I glanced up, I was shocked to see SSA Hotchner staring down at me. My mouth suddenly went dry, and I couldn't do anything but blink. He wasn't angry, not in the slightest, but his glare felt so intruding, I didn't quite know how to respond to it.

My voice was shaking, and I mentally face-palmed myself, "O-Oh, hey Sir, is there… Is there something I can do for you?"

"Yes.. Please follow me, Detective Lewis."

There was no room for argument, so after I slipped on my red heels, I was able to do nothing but pursue him, like a lost puppy dog.

"So, erm, Sir, where are you taking me? If you don't mind my asking," I received nothing but a quirked eyebrow in return and I quickly ended my rant with, "Sorry, yeah, shutting up now."

Instead of walking out of the doors like I had first assumed we would have done, he led me to a big, squared glass-windowed room, with a wide, circular table inside, filled to almost bursting of tan coloured files, papers and profiles of different types of suspects, videotapes, crime scene photographs and all sorts. My eyes were almost bursting with the amount of information that was in that room.

Hotchner pushed open the door, and kept it open, indicating for me to walk in before him, and I did so, with a questioning expression on my face, but that melted away when I made eye contact with a tuft of choppy brown hair. He was head-first in a manila folder, and wearing a pair of thin framed, circle lens glasses, and I swear to God, I have never seen someone look so cute in such a serious situation.

Blushing lightly, I prayed that my bronzer covered the flush of face, and I sat down in the only free seat, which was far less comfortable than the one I was used to, and I crossed my ankles, giving Hotchner my full attention.

Hotchner called for quiet, and all eyes were on him. He cleared his throat, and he began speaking, "Okay, this is Detective Charlotte Lewis, and she has been drafted in to work alongside with us on this case. Now that we've got fresh eyes, we should be able to see things that we haven't been able to before. So.. Lewis, can you tell us anything more on your specified profile? Something that we haven't noticed beforehand?"

Throughout his entire 'speech', I had been staring directly at Hotchner, my mouth agape and my eyes wide as saucers. Who told him that I was coming in on the case? I was only supposed to do paperwork? No, this was wrong. What's going on?

"No.. Sir, I think you're mistaken. I haven't been brought in on anything; I normally do office work. Now I work with facts and figures, I don't do the fieldwork anymore. I'm sure you're mistaken."

My voice was questioning, but there was a sense of certainty. He had to be mistaken, I havent been out in the field in over 8 months. Don't get me wrong, I would love to, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. Even with the thought of my accident, I unconsciously pressed at the scarred bullet hole that shattered my collarbone and was lodged in between my shoulder blade and spinal cord. It was still there, they couldn't remove it without running the risk of permanently damaging my back, and making me paraplegic.

Hotchner chuckled a little, and I thought the world was going to end. He replied with, "I assure you, Miss Lewis, I'm not mistake in the slightest," He pulled out a folder with my name scrawled in black marker across the front and continued, "Says here you were in the centre of a hostel hostage situation, and you went against protocol to save a young girl's life, correct?"

I nodded in response; my mouth apparently having fallen off in the last few moments. He's profiling me. That son of a bitch!

"You were shot, close range, and the bullet lodged itself between your second vertebrae and the corner of your shoulder blade.. You went down, however somehow pushed on and got the hostage out of there and back to her family, only to collapse seconds after exiting the situation. You should have died, your injuries were far too severe, but they saved you. You've been off field duty for the last 8 months, why?"

For a moment, I couldn't speak. The air having seemed to have been forced from my lungs, and I could feel myself swaying lightly. I steeled myself and took in a forced, deep breath. I needed to take control of the situation, damn it!

My voice was devoid of emotion, and the life that was in my eyes bled out as I spoke, "I took a leave of absence, and eventually, my position was handed to someone else. Nothing more, nothing less."

I could feel the questioning glances, but I didn't have it in me to respond to them. There was a reason why I didn't delve into the last 8 months, I simply got on with it. It was what I was good at. Coping, I suppose.

"If you wouldn't mind, I would like to get back to my desk now. Thank you for the offer, but I decline."

I stood up, and as slowly as my raging emotions would allow, I started walking towards the door. Only to feel a heavy, warm hand enclose around my wrist, and a light tug in the opposite direction.

"I know it's difficult to adapt to these situations, but we need you to. Now, I know it's hard, but we all need to come together, and work as a team. Just.. If you can, think about it."

It was Morgan, I could tell by the deep baritone voice that was right behind me, as well as the light twang that only came from Chicago, where his file said he hailed from. I nodded, if only minutely, and he released me, and I continued out of the door - straight to my desk, and I groaned. My fresh coffee had gone stone cold in the time I had been there.

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