Okay, I don't own anything to do with the perfection that is CM or any of its affiliations. I do, however, have the pleasure of owning my OC, Charlotte. Hope you enjoy the story - and have a great day!

Trudging back into the cabin, David and I glanced at one another, with nothing but sadness in our eyes, as the last four hours were spent trying to calm down emotionally ragged, aggressive, angry, hurt fathers, and another child, a boy named Jesse, of barely 6 years old. Needless to say, there were a lot of high octane emotions that I wasn't really used to experiencing on my own terms. It was almost fate, as a matter of fact, that as soon as I stepped into the cabin's warm interior, my phone began vibrating in my pocket, and without checking the caller I.D., I answered it, like a fucking tool.

Before I could even breathe out a simple 'Hello' I was bombarded with an unnecessarily loud, "GOOD AFTERNOON, CHARLOTTE!," and I already knew who it was.

Quickly, I walked into a spare, unused room, hoping for a sliver of privacy, if only for a moment, while I tore into this idiot for being.. Well, an idiot, I suppose. I asked, tersely, however my voice was painted with an unspoken humour, "Ledger, why are you such an asshole?"

He chuckled, happily, and stated, earnestly, "You wouldn't love me otherwise, now, would you?"

Chidingly, I clicked my tongue, and he lilted, "Alright, alright, I'm sorry. Look, I actually called for a reason. This case you're working on, its in Alaska, right?"

Immediately, I stilled, then, and drawled, suspiciously, "Yes.. Why?"

Truthfully, I could almost hear the grin in his words as he said, "Well because you're a newbie," insert that fucking chuckle and my answering growl, "And we're your handlers, we have to oversee you're work, so, instead of simply asking Hotchner for his opinion, we're coming to supervise you personally."

"Why the sudden change?"

He gasped, in faux-shock, and exclaimed, his tone playfully accusatory, "So you're not happy to see us?"

Quickly, I amended, "It's not that, idiot, I mean, why are you comin' down now, or all times?"

I imagined him shrugging, once more, and he commented, monotonously, "Well, the bosses think we, as a team, need to be more 'hands-on' with one another, and you just so happen to be the person to help us do it, so please, be a good girl, and let us do our jobs, so we get big, fat raises, alright?"

Before I could even reply, he had cut off the phone, and I rolled my eyes at the now darkened screen. Behind me, I heard a familiar chuckle, which made me jump, unfortunately, and I was asked, "Who was on the phone, Charlotte?"

I growled, playfully, "Derek, don't sneak up on me, you might not like what you hear," and sauntered past Morgan, with the intention of being seen as secretive, and even a little bit mysterious, however he tugged me back, and reiterated, "Maybe I wanna know more about you, baby girl."

I rolled my eyes, teasingly, "Whatever, Derek. It was Ryan Ledger, one of my handlers."

"What was he callin' for?," he asked, curiously, "He your boyfriend?"

I blanched, quietly, before strolling past Derek, not giving him an answer, as I thought the question itself was redundant as fuck, and walked back into the hallway, only to bump in the chest of one Spencer Reid.

Seriously, what I making this some kind of tradition? To publicly embarrass myself in front of the world's most attractive genius? Honestly, I shouldn't be allowed out of my house - I was a municipal hazard.

"Sorry about that," I tried to apologise, however as I looked into his eyes, I saw a hard, cold edge to them, that I hadn't noticed before, and I blinked, vacantly, wondering what exactly I had done to upset him so much.

He bit out, "It's fine," and practically stormed away, his shoulders tense, and his strides sharp and quick. He wanted to get away from me - for what reason, I don't know.

"Charlotte, come here, please," I heard Hotch's eloquent request come from the front desk, and as I arrived, I noticed the creases in his forehead, that only came about due to stress or confusion. He asked, "You knew your handlers were coming, I presume."

Apologetically, I replied, "I only jus' found out, Hotch. Ledger called me not two minutes ago, I didn't know."

His lips were set in a grim line, "Okay, well, I suppose we'll have to find two spare rooms for them, somewhere."

I asked, "What's the real reason why they're comin', Hotch? Ledger says its because of his bosses, but I ain't too sure about that."

He glanced at me, his eyes strained, and answered, candidly, "It's because they want to know if you can still operate, even after suffering a duress as great of yours."

Blanching now, for an entirely different reason, I opened my mouth to reply, however he cut me off, entirely, "It is not because you are unable, as an officer, but because you recovered so quickly, and the FBI is worried this may affect your work. Don't take it personally, Charlotte, it's not because of you."

It's easy for him to say that, but let him try and live it, and then see if he can say that so quickly.

-0-

For the rest of the afternoon, leading into the evening, I felt as though my skin was inflamed, somehow. Everywhere I went I felt millions of eyes were on me, everywhere I went.

My senses were going haywire, my head was blaring and my ears were ringing, as though a bell was being sounded through my skull. On more than one occasion, in my wait for Ledger and presumably Cade, to arrive at the cabin, I had to be pinched, thankfully, covertly, by Derek, to get my head back into the game, and I hoped that I could get my shit together before they reached the cabin. I couldn't get the fact that Ledger lied to me out of my head.

It hurt.

I couldn't describe it in any other way, than that. It just hurt. Like a bitch, as a matter of fact, and I wouldn't be able to forgive him, unless he explained himself, thoroughly, and boy, would I give him a fucking earful when he got here. Cade better not have been in on it, either, otherwise they were both on my naughty list, and I didn't forgive so easy.

"Hey.. You okay? You look a little out of it?"

I glanced at David, and replied, "Yeah.. I'm good, don't worry about it. Just nervous, that's all."

"Why?"

Gulping, I glanced at the clock, catching the poisonous gaze of Reid, and answered, "Ledger and Cade are supposed to be here in a few minutes. He texted me and told me they were pretty close, and I'm jus' nervous, is all."

He winked, lewdly, in my direction, and I pushed his shoulder, only to hear the snapping of something in the other direction. I turned to it, only to see Spencer throwing the two halves of a broken pencil into the bin, and walking - read stomping - back upstairs, and, I guessed, into his room, if the slamming of the door said anything.

Exhaling, deeply, I felt guilt settle in my stomach, as well as confusion and regret. It wasn't my fault that I was clumsy, I didn't mean to bump into him all of the time. It was already embarrassing enough - I didn't need him literally fighting to get out of my way. It made my feel shitty enough to accept that he didn't like me in that way, but to have it confirmed, even after having Derek build me up like he did before. It ached.

I turned to Derek, who indicated that I should go upstairs and follow him with a crane of his neck, and I blinked, vacantly, before shaking my head, in return. He huffed, and walked over to me, and stated, not unkindly, "Look, idiot, I didn't do all of this settin' up for you to pussy out now, so go on. Go talk to him, and if I'm wrong, then I will personally eat my own fuckin' shoe. Now go," he pulled me up out of the sofa chair, and nudged me in the direction, in which Spencer just retreated.

Faintly, I heard Garcia approach Derek, then, and I hoped he took a sliver of his own advice, and told her how he felt. They were an odd couple, but nonetheless, an adorable one, and I wished them the best. Trailing the staircase, I overheard the tinkling notes of Frederic Chopin's Revolutionary No. 12 Etude in C minor, and knocked, lightly, on the door in which the music was coming out of. A groan was heard, followed by footsteps that could only belong to Spencer, and I felt my throat close up just as he pulled open the door.

His eyes widened at the sight of me, and I felt my own eyes squinted in response to the stream of bright light, illuminating my features, as well as darkening his own, making him seem far more intense and more reclusive than he was. He stammered, clearly caught off-guard, "H-Hey.. What-What are you doing up here?"

Taking a second to compose myself, I replied, "I came to talk to you, honestly."

He inhaled, before stepping out of the way, respectfully, and I took a few steps inside, finding that his room was just as neat as the rest of him. There was literally nothing that wasn't in line with something else in the room. He even moved the bed, so it was lying horizontally across the width of the room. He walked behind me, a little edgier than I had thought he would have been. He asked, from his precarious seat at the edge of his bed, "W-What do you want to talk about?"

For a moment, I was lost in the scent that was submersed the air surrounding us. It was like leather, freshly printed paper, red apples, honey and quill-ink. Who else, but Spencer, would smell like such a concoction. I replied, nervously, "Well.. I g-guess I jus' felt like you had a problem with me, or somethin', and I jus' wanted to find out what I had done, and to apologise for it," my accent slipping into my words, irritatingly.

He paled, momentarily before stating, factually, "You've done nothing wrong, believe me."

My eyebrows puckered of their own volition, and he elaborated, "I havent been feeling particularly well, that's all. Don't worry about it."

I could hear the lie in his voice, and I called him out on it, if only slightly, by enquiring, "Are you sure?"

He nodded, and I blinked, before sighing, "Alright.. Fine, I guess, I just.. No, it doesn't matter, I've got to go anyway. Busy night ahead."

Immediately, he scowled, "Yeah.. Your boyfriend is coming down, isn't he?"

Initially, I was a little taken aback by the malice in his tone, however his words hit me before anything else did, and I quickly amended his assumption, "No.. Ledger isn't my boyfriend. He's my handler - there's a difference, Reid."

He rolled his eyes, to which I frowned at, and answered, somewhat sarcastically, "Yeah.. I'm sure."

Automatically, I spat back, "I don't know why you're acting like such a jerk, but please, if you wouldn't mind, you know, not doing that, because I'm not with Ledger. Jesus, Ryan is my handler, nothin' more, nothin' less."

His shocked expression was the last thing I saw before I turned around, entirely miffed, and walked over to the door, ready to let myself out, however what I didn't expect was the warm, familiar hand cup the crease of my elbow, and twirl me around, just so my back was pressed against the door.

His eyes were unfocused and blazing, as if his thoughts were like molten lava inside of his mind, and, out of a nervous habit, I bit down on my bottom lip, trying to work my way out of his deadlock grip. I asked, anxiously, "Reid.. What are you doin'?"

He stepped forward, then, and his other hand fell flat against the door besides my head, his face descending closer and closer and ever fucking closer to my own, until our lips were a hairsbreadth away from one another. He whispered, with a ghost of a smirk on his face, "I told you I'm not good with this," and closed the distance between us, and Jesus Christ, was it ever worth it.