Sapere Aude

by Ezeiel

"Actus non facit reum nisi mens sit rea..." How long can someone escape their heritage when it's all they've ever known? It's hard to abandon all that's familiar to you for the sake of something you've always been forced to live without: love, the most dangerous emotion any human can experience. Emily Prentiss x OFC

3. ORTUS - II

PART ONE - ORTUS

CHAPTER II

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2009. BAU BULLPEN, QUANTICO, VA

SIOBHÁN QUINN

...

Maybe Siobhán had underestimated how effortless it would be to convince Derek Morgan that she was somehow an honest person - not that she had actively given him any reason to think as such but normally, the people she met were categorically far more skeptical of her intentions (she also reasoned that her previous line of work probably had an influence on those perceptions) but she supposed the one comforting reminder was that Emily seemed very much steeled in her doubtful regard of her.

At least she had her wits about her... Siobhán mused to herself, scrolling through the small screen of her phone in the palm of her hand before handing it over to Morgan who stood, practically clinging to her side as he oozed with a strange child-like animation and let out a low damn under his breath once his eyes settled on the small device's screen. The man couldn't be as trusting as he was demonstrating himself to be, right?

It unnerved her slightly. But then again, maybe they were just genuinely good people... And since when did you have a conscience?

"You're quickly becomin' one of the most interestin' women I've ever met," Morgan offered with a chuckle, a small smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth as he swiped along at the screen in his hands. "It's so refreshin'..." he shook his head, bemused.

... Or Derek Morgan was trying to get her to fall into bed with him. She really hoped not.

Siobhán blew out a breath, "Dat's very… bahld."

From his other side, Prentiss nudged his arm to jolt his attention to her as she glanced at the two-wheeled motor vehicle that had enraptured him so easily. "Oh please, because she rides a cruiser?" As soon as the words left her mouth, Morgan's head shot up in surprise with narrowed eyes that pulled a satisfied smirk from Prentiss - obviously knowing he hadn't expected her to know a single motorbike type when she saw one. "How do you know I don't own one?" she dared, arching a single brow in challenge.

The question had clearly caught Morgan off-guard but Siobhán could see Prentiss was still clearly irritated by his antics and was purposely being as difficult as she possibly could - a part of Siobhán found that she commended the woman's mettlesome spirit.

What the other woman obviously didn't anticipate was for Morgan to turn the question on its heel and fire it straight back at her: "Well, d'you?" he prompted, raising an eyebrow in question as her face grew serious, even crestfallen. "I've never seen you ride it to work…" Morgan continued, a grin on his cheeks as he eyed the dark-haired woman curiously before Prentiss was glowering at him again in apparent defeat as he laughed to himself.

"I—" Prentiss began to protest, scrambling to find the right words as her eyes flitted over to where Siobhán ambled next to Morgan. The redhead furrowed her brow, sensing that sometimes she really hated him. She heard him hum in satisfaction with Prentiss's spluttered response, shaking his head at her apparent pettiness as she rushed to collect herself: "I don't but-"

"That's what I thought," he interrupted soundly, the satisfaction still glowing in his words before he eventually passed the phone back over to Siobhán with a knowing look as he dodged another jab from the other agent. "Wanna know somethin', Prentiss?" Morgan paused and Siobhán couldn't deny the smirk that pull across her lips when she saw Prentiss's eyes narrow at him suspiciously, obviously distrusting of his next words which turned out to be a good preemption. "I think you'd look good in leathers."

She would, Siobhán intoned to herself as she eyed the other woman curiously, abandoning all measure of subtlety as she wondered if a part of Emily secretly agreed that she would look good in leather as Siobhán's mind had already decided she would.

Siobhán chuckled to herself as she imagined the brunette is a set of incredibly skin-tight bike leathers - a sight she and Morgan both wished to see, apparently. Eventually, Siobhán blinked and drove one of her free hands through her loose hair and sighed - if Prentiss had seen her staring, she was at least polite enough to ignore it.

The dark-haired agent rolled her eyes at the comment and ignored it entirely when she replied: "You've also never asked."

"I like Sourpuss Emily." Morgan reached out to wrap an arm around Prentiss's shoulder and laughed, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head which earned him another shove in the side. "Y'know I'll always love you, Princess."

If there was any truth to what Morgan had said, then she didn't need to try as hard as she thought she did with him... if parts of who she already was could win him over, then the job was already easier than she assumed it would be. She knew she had to be careful and not allow herself to get too caught up in who she was trying to be for them because that-

"Why're you frownin'?"

Morgan's voice rudely pulled her from her thoughts in an instant; she abandoned her reverie and saw him smirking still while Prentiss was frowning although she was sure it could pass for a scowl.

"It's nahthin'," Siobhán raised an eyebrow and was silent for a few moments before giving a small shake of her head as she continued to mull over Morgan's earlier comment. "I joehst fend it 'ard to believe I'm de mahst interestin' wahman yer've met ahr yer joehst naht de wahmanizer yer pretend to be."

Prentiss let out a laugh.

Insult Morgan and Prentiss laughs openly, Siobhán noted to herself, looking over at Prentiss who didn't bother being discreet in her amusement as she slapped the man on the shoulder in feigned pity. "You poor baby," she snickered in faux sympathy.

The male agent shrugged her hand off quickly enough.

"Let me tell ya somethin', Red..." Morgan gave her a wry grin that was impossibly smug at the use of the newly-appointed nickname and normally, she would find it incredibly irritating but the annoyance she may have felt welling up inside was non-existent as he threw in another wink, "I can't remember the last time I met a woman who rides motorcycles, has been in the army, and still has a sense of humour to go with her pretty face and is Irish."

Verdant eyes rolled playfully, a small smile gracing her lips before she shook her head, "So, what yer sayin' is all de wahmen yer've met are bahrin' and oehgly?" Siobhán quipped with raised brows and Morgan's eyes widened in slow panic (probably because of the pointed stare he was receiving from Prentiss) before she laughed, jabbing his arm. "I'm wendin' yer oehp. Yer've made me sooehnd like a walkin' cleche..."

A part of her, despite being so small, couldn't suppress the slow rise of dignity that welled in her chest at Morgan's words... it struck her as unsettling that she had never really reflected on what she had done with her life, and hearing him reel it off so simply, she couldn't help the gratification she felt - not that she was ever one to preen herself. It also felt nice to hear someone be crazy about what she had done with her life... and that she was Irish.

The last thought brought a small chuckle past her lips.

As he rolled his eyes with a scoff and swatted Siobhán's hand away, Prentiss cleared her throat. "Promise me one thing, Morgan? Don't say that in front of Garcia without me knowing..." Prentiss couldn't suppress the snort as it escaped from the back of her throat, "I want to watch when she roasts you alive."

"Now, that lady is feisty..." Morgan choked out a laugh, grinning again but ultimately, waving off Prentiss's comment to turn his attention back to Siobhán: "'kay, Bonneville Bobber or Honda Rebel?"

Shaking her head slightly, Siobhán made sure her smile was still firmly in place. "I 'ave a sahft spaht fahr rebels. I do lahve me street treple, dooehgh..." she ruffled her hair with her left palm and sighed, "To be 'ahnest, I'm easily pleased when it comes to street fighters boeht nahthin' rides like de VMAX I've gaht back 'ahme."

"Is it smooth?" Morgan pressed with a coy tone to his voice, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively that only succeeded in pulling another laugh from Siobhán at his boldness.

Throwing her hair over her shoulder, Siobhán gave an exaggerated bob of her head and didn't bother to try and hide her excitement before she caught Morgan's widening grin. "So smooth," Siobhán shook her head at his antics, unable to hide her grin. "To get it to sexty in oehnder three secahnds..." she teased coyly.

Morgan rolled his eyes, "What's the horsepower on that thing? One-eighty?"

"Ahh, yeah... its terminal speed is faster dan a thoehnderbird. Ducatis are great rides as well," Siobhán commented, unable to conceal her excitement around her addictive need for speed while Morgan continued to show a genuine interest but then shook her head to regain her thoughts as she glanced over at Prentiss, meeting those staringly cedar eyes in a single moment. "D'yer like mahtorbikes, Prentess?"

"Can't say I've ever really thought about it," Prentiss remarked dryly with a small frown tugging across her face.

Chuckling, Siobhán regarded Prentiss for a moment before pressing her lips together in a thin line. "Dat's a shame," she found herself murmuring under her breath, her voice low and firm and Prentiss's eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"Really?" Morgan trailed off, staring at her in something akin to wonder, before he pointed his finger at her in slow accusation, "Not even in your high school goth phase?"

Siobhán looked over at Morgan to see him shoot the dark-haired woman a wink which soon had Prentiss folding her arms across her chest warningly as her eyes zeroed in on Morgan and Siobhán could see the challenge lurking in their depths. "Shut it, Morgan."

"Spoilsport," Morgan muttered before letting out a long-suffering sigh and flashing her another grin, unable to control himself.

Unable to deny her intrigue at Prentiss's shift in behaviour, Siobhán couldn't help but wonder if she was to goad Morgan enough by asking for affirmation of what he meant that she would learn more of Emily's personality. She needed all the help she could get... "Goth phase?" she repeated slowly with an arched brow, glancing between the pair of them in feigned cluelessness and he was soon grinning at her.

Chancing a quick glance in Prentiss's direction and jerked his head over at her as he leaned towards Siobhán. "Prentiss here was- OW!"

The words were stolen from his mouth when Prentiss's open palm swiped him upside the head in one swift, nimble movement followed by the familiar sound of skin-to-skin thwacking together echoed through the air between them. "Jeez!" Morgan yelped in a higher tone, his hands flying to his head in an instant to bat her hand away from another attack that only resulted in making Siobhán laugh and Prentiss glower even more. "What was that for?" he complained, rubbing the back of his scalp.

Prentiss balked at him in disbelief, "Shut up!" she urged him, her eyes flashing with the silent message of 'you know what.'

"Dat makes cahmplete sense," Siobhán let out in a low chuckle as she regarded Prentiss again, the comment pulling the other woman's gaze back to her slowly to offer Morgan a moment of respite. "Yer'd be soehrprised boeht gahths are actually far mahre emahtionally mature dan dahse in mainstream sahciety..." She didn't miss Morgan's eyebrows raise at her words and she sent him a pointed look, "Well, dink abooeht it - dey oehnderstand dat de best and mahst lastin' jahy is ahften tenged wit a lettle sadness, dat invahlves true depth..." Siobhán looked back to Prentiss again and found she didn't like the scowl that had settled over Prentiss's brows in the slightest and soon she was shrugging at the other woman, "If it makes yer feel any better, I was a lahner at school."

Prentiss sighed and rolled her eyes, scoffing at her words but made no move to correct her. "'Course you were," she murmured softly in a grumble.

"As an Iresh ked growin' oehp in London durin' de trooehbles, can't exactly say I was pahpular..." Siobhán shrugged and allowed herself to recall how insistent the bullying had been almost immediately upon her arrival in London and how children just never really understood but that also didn't mean it didn't hurt any less either. She felt herself shudder as she recalled the memories.

Morgan blanched, "I can imagine that was rough."

The redhead glanced up at Morgan and lifted a brow, registering his words and a soft frown settled across her face. "Guess I never really dooehght o' it dat way... was part o' de reasahn me father made me mahve, so it was kend o' irahnic dat I was pecked ahn fahr it..." Siobhán smiled wryly in recollection, her brow straightening. "It tooehghened me oehp, I went to an all-girls boardin' school... girls are wahrse dan bahys, yer 'ad to becomb dick-skenned quite quickly."

She looked up slowly and met the cedar orbs of Prentiss who wore an unsettling contemplative gaze as she stared back at her before she eventually shook herself free of her most recent reverie. "I couldn't think of anything worse," she ground out quietly although it was loud enough for both Siobhán and Morgan to hear but what may have been almost undetectable was the subtle change in her tone that had the redhead tilting her head in question.

Morgan had been oblivious to it entirely, instead choosing to invade the woman's personal space. "Not everyone has parents who take them to different countries, Prentiss," he commented with a gentle jab to her side again.

With a huff, the brunette let out a scoff. "I was dragged."

"I bet dat was 'ard..." Trailing off, Siobhán measured her tone carefully as Prentiss's eyes fixed on hers instantly as though they were shocked by the admission. "Tryin' to settle fahr yer to mahve again."

Dark eyes were staring at her with avid interest; as she had spoken, something had also shifted in Prentiss's expression - and it seemed as though it had allowed for a moment of mutual understanding to settle between them.

Siobhán watched Prentiss for a long time without rushing to say anything and eventually, eventually, Prentiss opened her mouth as if to say something in return but no words came out which made Siobhán's brows quirk in intrigue.

Obviously frustrated with herself, Prentiss closed it and drew in a slight breath. "Yeah..." she murmured smoothly instead, her eyes holding Siobhán's steadily before the redhead could've sworn she caught a faint glimpse of a blush creeping up Prentiss's neck.

Squaring her own shoulders, Siobhán took a deep breath and let a surprised chuckle escape from the back of her throat as she allowed herself to become a little baffled by the reaction she had pulled from Prentiss.

Having allowed herself to become too caught up in Emily Prentiss, Siobhán didn't notice Morgan as he came to a sharp halt until his hand was circling around her wrist to pull her back. Looking at him questioningly, she saw that his eyebrows were flying up as he threw his eyes around the room and gaped at how crowded it had grown in the little time they had gone to the spore site. "Woah..." he blew out sharply, prompting both women to look ahead at his reaction. "Looks like the whole defense community is here..."

Prentiss scoffed from beside him, and shook her head with a slight smile on her mouth, "So much testosterone in one room," she commented with a roll of her eyes before adding: "Men fighting for dominance... great."

Siobhán shrugged in response before she took on a teasing tone as she cast her gaze around the bullpen, "Well, o' cooehrse wahmen dahn't wahrk as 'ard as men... dey get it right de first time."

"Rossi!"

Morgan's booming voice called across the bullpen to where the seasoned agent was in the small kitchenette, leisurely pouring himself a mug full of coffee with a small grimace before he glanced over his shoulder to look at them.

Siobhán was somewhat pleased to see the grimace dissipate.

Rossi set down the kettle firmly and brought the mug to his lips as he eyed the three of them momentarily, a small smile playing on his lips and he leaned against the table that pressed into the back of his legs and gave a small sigh. "Hotch is just coming." He sipped at his coffee again, giving Siobhán a small bob of his head when their eyes finally met. "How're you finding it, Quinn?"

"It's sound," she smiled at the older agent.

Morgan turned to look at her, another smirk on his lips, "We ready to deliver the profile?" he gestured around them, jerking his head in the direction of Rossi as he slowly approached from behind, "Before Quinn here insults the entire room," he finished, chuckling darkly as his comment earned him a glower from Siobhán and she moved to hold her hands up in the air with a smirk.

"Comb ahn..."

Prentiss's dark eyes seemed to brighten in amusement before remarking: "We wouldn't want that." Prentiss nearly smirked, dark eyes staring at the Irishwoman across from her, who admittedly stared back with an aura of simplicity to the exchange.

The serious way she said it made Siobhán choke out a surprised laugh, laughing in her own incredulity. "It wooehld make fahr easy entertainment," the redhead smirked back with a soft shrug, spurred on when she heard Prentiss's low chuckle from her side, loud and clear, and without looking she hoped the woman still wore a smile.

From the other side, Siobhán could see Hotch quickly approaching in long strides towards them with his all-too-familiar furrowed brow and the three of them immediately sobered.

He came to a sharp halt beside where she lingered and his next movements startled her and her companions; Hotch reached out and squeezed Siobhán's arm quickly in a momentary greeting that, judging by the raised brows belonging to Morgan and Prentiss, was completely out of character for him. "Siobhán, I'd like for you to lead the preliminary profile if that's alright?" his voice was low, assessing her slowly.

She didn't miss Prentiss glancing over at Morgan with her raised eyebrows who only shrugged in reply, though he soon shot her a cheeky wink.

Siobhán couldn't help but flash Hotch a grin as a breath of relief left her when she fully acknowledged him, half-joking as she grinned widely. "Dooehgh yer'd never ask."

Hotch gave her a pleasant, genial smile.

The toying smirk Siobhán wore while speaking had Prentiss's eyes rolling involuntarily as the redhead strode to where they had set up their boards, clasping her hands together as she found she was barely able to suppress her eagerness. It had been such a long time since she had been in the position to deliver a profile that she hadn't realised how much she had missed it.

"Can I 'ave everyahne's attention…" Siobhán announced to the bullpen, the resonating presence of her accent immediately drawing everyone's attention as though it was a sound they weren't accustomed to. Hyperaware that she was to make an impression, not only on all those before but also the BAU, She offered a tight-lipped smile before starting: "Dank you… befahre we actually deliver de prahfile, I dahn't know 'ow many o' yer actually familiar wit terrahrest prahfilin'..." she ventured gradually, wandering in the open space before them as she spoke.

In most situations, the amount of people staring with their eyes boring into her would be enough to overwhelm anyone but Siobhán relished in the eloquence it provided.

Hotch had graced her with an opportunity she was, of course, going to abuse. Why wouldn't she want to put them to shame?

"Like psychahlogical prahfilin' whech we emplahy in 'ighly emahtive cases invahlvin' rape, sexual-ahrientated kellers ahr arsahnests fahr example, dahse violent behavioural patterns we identify can be transferred when prahfilin' terrahrests." Siobhán shifted back on her heels, her thumbs coming from her side to tuck into the hoops of her belt. "Dis relies ahn de premise dat terrahrest tendencies can be determined similarly throoehgh an individual's sahcial statoehs, education, livelihood, deir marital statoehs amahng ahther factahrs," she made the conscious effort to keep her voice light, measured and put excruciating pronunciation onto words to make sure all she was saying landed well even if, all the while, there was a potential headache brewing from behind her eyes from all the gormless expressions.

God forbid any of them complain that they can't understand her…

Casually, she took in what she hoped was a subtle deep breath and smoothed her hands down the sides of her trousers before she gave them all a considering look. "We identify terrahrests by cahmparin' dem to sahcietal pahpulations throoehgh de ahbservation o' destinct, indicatin' traits ahr behavioural patterns. De three mahst cahmmon approaches to terrahrest identification emplahy racial-physical, psychahpathahlogical, and sahcioecahnomic attributes as..." Siobhán reached up to rub her temple, suddenly aware of all the eyes watching her closely as she thoughtfully persisted through her undoubtedly annoying monologue. "Prahfilin' booehndaries."

In her career, she'd become more than familiar with eyes watching her - more in disbelief than anything else - but this time, she couldn't deny it, felt completely different. It made her feel uneasy as she reeled off the basics to the rows of people before her, teaching them how to basically suck eggs.

"Boeht," she started again, shifting to hold her hands behind her back, clasped together as she continued with her idle pacing. "Because o' de coehlture we live in tahday, we lack definitive soehccess in prahfilin' terrahrests because we're so 'eavily reliant ahn de dimensions o' race, gender, and age…" she paused for a few moments, aware that she might have overloaded them with everything to be wary of when developing the most precise profile that would help them but also because it gave her the momentary opportunity to glance around her slightly to see that all eyes were on her.

Siobhán watched carefully, turning as she allowed her eyes to skim over the team gradually before wandering further to settle on what they sought out. Brown eyes met green.

Green eyes narrowed in pure determination, raising an eyebrow to the owner of the brown in silent challenge before the other woman glanced away again, her long lashes fluttering.

With a measured expression, Siobhán turned away again and couldn't hide how satisfied she was with the reaction as it settled over her. What was wrong with Prentiss?

Easing her brows from their question, Siobhán took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before continuing: "What I'm sayin is yer can't prahfile a terrahrest based ahn dahse... it alludes to a climate o' fear and de coehlture o' terrahrest stereotypin' dat we dahn't want. Dere's no definitive age grooehp dat terrahrests fall into, dere is no definitive gender and dere is no definitive race." Her mouth twitched up into a slight smirk, her hand coming up to shake her hair over her shoulders and Siobhán let out a sharp sigh, "We want to avoid dimensional prahfilin'."

Internally, she couldn't deny that she felt slightly victorious already - enjoying how everyone was being forced to listen to her spiel on terrorism and how to effectively resolve this case -

"We prahfile to oehnderstand as a methahd o' soehspect identification... de cahmposition o' a terrahrest demahgraphic is ever-evahlvin' in line wit bot sahcial and ecahnomic circoehmstances…" she drawled out slowly, her smirk eventually melting into a slight smile as the questioning looks she was beginning to receive from around the bullpen grew. "To avoid dimensional prahfilin', we need to ascertain de defferences between terrahrest mahvements, rahles in terrahrest factions and even in de persahnalities and mahtives o' individual terrahrests."

"So, what you're saying is you don't know who this guy is?" a man croaked sarcastically from a few feet away.

Siobhán cocked her head to the side in question, "Dat's de whahle point o' a prahfile, isn't it? If we ded, I wooehldn't 'ave joehst wasted me time…" She held his gaze firmly for a few moments before rolling her eyes, "Because yooehr cahlleague 'ere ahbviooehsly dedn't oehnderstand, it can be incredebly defficoehlt to prahfile terrahrests whech is why yer all 'ere."

Looking to where Hotch was stood at her side, she saw his eyes scan the crowd momentarily before he subtly tipped his head in her direction. "Because the targeted locations aren't symbolically significant as far as we can tell, we believe that these attacks are personal… Prentiss?"

The raven-haired woman nodded but what Siobhán found odd was the faint flush that was evident across her cheeks as she awkwardly cleared her throat. Did Emily get nervous delivering profiles? That seemed so out of character… a newbie maybe but someone seasoned like her? No… "Understanding the significance of these locations will be key to identifying the UnSub."

"Essentially, this personal element strongly indicates that we're dealing with a home-grown terrorist," Reid clarified, tucking some loose strands of hair behind his ear before lacing his hands together again.

Morgan nodded in agreement, "Like the Amerithrax case, we believe this is someone from the science or defense community."

"Dat's why yer all 'ere…" she kept her voice light as she repeated her words, measured, even though there was a potential headache brewing behind her eyes, "We dink yer may know dem, they may even be one o' oehs."

"Sure it ain't one of your IRA buddies, Irish?" someone called from the gathered crowd.

She let her mouth fall open in mock-offense, "I mean, why dedn't we cahnsider dat? Yer know what? It might even be me, who knows…" Siobhán didn't miss the movement from beside her as Hotch shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat as if to consciously right her course again and remind her that they were trying to get people on their side and not indirectly label them idiots to their faces. Drawing in a deep breath, she righted herself and brought her palms together. "De point is dese 'ahme-grown terrahrests are myahpic zealahts, ideolahgues who believe dat deir wahrk is o' de greatest impahrtance..." she paused, allowing herself a scrap of satisfaction at the silence that had settled in the room. "Dey are disellusioned."

She couldn't help it if the look one of the many men in the room gave her wasn't enough to make her drop her smirk, as she'd already steeled herself against potential worry, finding that she was able to relish in the satisfaction of educating them.

"They may have preached about the threat of an attack on America."

Her eyes gradually swept into the direction of the voice and saw Prentiss bringing the ridge of her coffee to her lips, her eyes flickering over to her.

She blinked away instantly, dropping her eyes.

"Their coworkers would describe him as histrionic, paranoid, and even secretive," Morgan informed curtly.

"With all due respect, that's a little vague," the same man from the crowd commented, "What are we supposed to do with something that generic?"

Finding that she was barely unable to contain the eye roll she fought against, Siobhán pushed off against the desk she had been leaning against and immediately felt everyone's eyes flying to her. "As I explained earlier, it can be incredebly defficoehlt to prahfile terrahrests..." she informed them plainly, "Dey, and I say dey, because we're assumin' de soehspect is male... dey may 'ave lahgged excessive 'ooehrs at wahrk in de past cooehple o' weeks in preparation fahr de attack. Ooehr oehnsoehb is mahst likely to be sengle and dahn't be soehrprised if dey 'ave oehndertaken 'igher ahr foehrther education… moest o' dem are stupidly smart."

"Because he values his intellect," Reid bounced off her comment, "We believe he's taken the full dosage of anthrax vaccines over the recommended eighteenth-month schedule and had annual boosters."

Morgan stepped up, running a hand over his stubble. "Our UnSub has their own workspace where they make their product in privacy," he offered, glancing over his shoulder at Rossi who nodded in agreement. "They also have access to large, expensive, industrial-grade equipment whilst at work."

"They've probably written about the threat of anthrax attacks, published papers… But feels that no one is listening which has resulted in anger," Rossi explained, fiddling with the ring sat on his right ring finger, a pensive look crossing his face fleetingly.

"Now in reference to what Agent Rossi has just explained," Morgan patted the senior agent on the shoulder, "They may have recently experienced some sort of professional humiliation like having been demoted or even fired... that would have been their trigger… the moment they decided to go rogue," he surmised in conclusion, reaching for his coffee and taking a long sip before nodding to Hotch.

Like a well-oiled machine, Siobhán mused to herself as the agents around her all took their part, offering what they hoped would provide some level of significance to help reprimand whoever was orchestrating the attacks before escalated.

"They may have betrayed their loved ones to their cause, too." Hotch shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, his brow furrowing further as if that was possible. "They could have been recently separated or divorced…"

Sensing shifting to her left, Siobhán turned her head as Prentiss brought up her arms to fold them over her chest as Hotch continued to speak of potential familial issues surrounding the UnSub they had yet to identify.

Prentiss pursed her lips, and she knew her gaze had found them and lingered. "This is somebody who knows every detail of the two-thousand-and-one anthrax attack and has talked about what that suspect did right and wrong," Prentiss added, which stole Siobhán's attention again as her eyes hovered on her.

Green eyes stared at the woman to her left who, she found, was staring right back at her but Siobhán found something so unsettlingly nonchalant about it that she couldn't place. Eventually, Siobhán pulled her gaze away from the other woman and surveyed the rows of eyes before her as Reid cleared his throat from beside her, grounding her.

"They're probably watching the news very closely to see how the country reacts to these attacks and that may influence their next attack…"

From Siobhán's right, Hotch clasped a hand on her shoulder and came forward from behind her slowly. "Please share this with your departments… thank you," he concluded in an ominous tone of finality and imminently, the crowds began to disperse.

Watching as the flurries of people went on with their duties, Siobhán hummed in amusement before wheeling around on her heel to see all the team staring at her.

Looking between them all slowly, it was long before Siobhán was quirking an eyebrow, tilting her head in question, "What?" she breathed out, slightly uncertain, fearing she had blown it.

No one spoke for a few moments which did little to settle Siobhán's growing concern as she tried to piece together what they were thinking to prompt such a prolonged silence.

It was Morgan who eventually, thankfully, broke the silence.

"Nothin', just impressed that's all." Siobhán glanced at Morgan, surprise colouring her features, as he sounded impressed, "You handled the room really well for a rookie."

A grin flashed over Prentiss's face at the comment, "Ouch."

Siobhán's head whipped around, her eyes shooting over to Morgan before she tilted her head up slightly to look her in the eye, "Rookie?" she arched an eyebrow incredulously, a disbelieving smile working its way over her face. She knew he meant nothing by the word except to wind her up.

Siobhán decided she'd give him that amusement.

"Oh dear..." she heard Rossi murmur under his breath, ducking his head down as he took another long sip of his coffee.

"Morgan's right, Siobhán," Hotch shook his head although she could see the faint amusement alight within his eyes as he regarded her, "Excellent delivery," he assured her shortly, giving her a firm pat on the shoulder.

Siobhán's mouth quirked up in a smile against her own accord and she let out a soft, teasing laugh. "I know me shit," she murmured, mirth clear in her tone.

Rossi nodded, raising his eyebrows at her with a warm smile. "Good job, kiddo." The warmth remained as he gave her a soft pat on her shoulder.

The team slowly started to part but Hotch lingered, turning to Siobhán with a smile that wasn't quite a smile.

"You did a really solid job there, Siobhán… thank you," he told her earnestly, genuinely grateful for her input. "Cases like this are never easy but having experience on our side makes it less hard-going."

"Danks…" Siobhán shook her head slightly, even as a pleased grin tugged at her lips.

It didn't last long.

"Um…" someone coughed to clear their throat behind them, succeeding to pull both of their attentions to them.

It was a government agent who had disturbed them, looking rather apprehensive as he shifted on his feet. His suit was crumpled in areas, his tie crooked and his brow substantially covered in sweat as he glanced between them hurriedly.

"Can we 'elp yer?" Siobhán prompted lowly, the agent's eyes snapping over to her as he nodded, still seeming unsure.

"Agent Quinn, Agent Hotchner…" He stuck his hand out swiftly for each of them to shake, which both of them did reluctantly. "Jack Summers, pleasure to meet you both, unfortunate it's in these circumstances but…"

Siobhán could feel Hotch's patience vibrating from her side and how erratically it was depleting, enough to force her to intervene again. "I 'ate to be dat persahn boeht if it's naht impahrtant, we really moehst-"

Summers cut her off, holding up a tape and wiggling it in front of their faces as if to taunt them. "I think I've got something you should see… but not here."

Hotch sighed deeply, nodding in defeat as they shared a wary glance between themselves before he eyes the bullpen.

"Come this way, we'll use the conference room…" He gestured to the elevated room in the far east corner of the bullpen from where they were standing. "Siobhán, grab the others," he announced as he led Summers away briskly, nodding in the direction where the others loitered not too far from them.

Striding to where Rossi and Morgan lingered in front of the boards, Siobhán avoided Prentiss's eyes entirely as she came to a soft halt beside Rossi.

"We might 'ave a lead," she announced, her eyes unable to locate Reid as she glanced around. "Reid gahne back to de 'ahspital wit Kimura?"

Morgan nodded, "Yeah," he affirmed, moving to follow her as Rossi and Prentiss trailed behind.

"We'll 'ave to oehpdate 'im," she acknowledged, starting towards the catwalk and missing Morgan's oddly panicked expression as he rushed after her.

She was surprised when she felt a light pressure pulling on the crook of her right elbow.

Grasping her elbow to pull her back slightly, Morgan scratched the back of his head. "Hey, if I offended you earlier- I really didn't mean to…" he stumbled over his words, looking altogether awkward which told her he wasn't used to delivering many apologies… even if they weren't necessary.

She stared at him, honestly unsure why he had thought she was offended but she deduced that it was more than likely due to the fact that she was labelled as the newbie and those territories were thankfully unexplored.

She could feel the exasperation welling up inside of her and it took everything to push it back down again as she silently reminded herself that the people she had surrounded herself with didn't know her and they weren't meant to… and they wouldn't.

"I'm naht a fragile lettle flower, Derek Mahrgan." Siobhán smiled at him, teasingly with an eye roll. "It'll take mahre dan dat fahr yer to rile me oehp… dahn't wahrry."

Morgan looked instantly relieved. "I'll keep that in mind." His shoulders sagged, all stress leaving them and he grinned over at her.

The senior agent among them hummed in thought. "You let him off too easily, Red," Rossi let out in a sigh full of levity.

"Shut it, Rossi," the younger man shot back quickly.

Green eyes rolled, a small smile playing on her lips. "'e's joehst loehcky I'm a nice persahn," Siobhán quickly cut in, teasingly and laughing lightly at the indignation that crossed Morgan's face at her words.

Her words, however, appeased Rossi entirely and he gave her a slight smile. "Very."

Their words dawning on him, Morgan rushed to defend himself. "Hey-"

"Who told you that?" Prentiss interjected effortlessly as she cut Morgan off, cocking her head to the side in question with a slight raise of her eyebrows.

Both men glanced between one another as the redhead blinked slowly, registering the raven-haired woman's words. So, that's how it's going to be…

Other than offering her an irritated eye roll, Siobhán ignored it as best she could although the other woman's commentary was beginning to grate on her, and carried on along the catwalk until she crossed the threshold into the conference room, "Goehys, dis is Jack Soehmmers…" She gestured to the man standing on the far side of the room next to Hotch, "Agents Rahssi, Mahrgan and Prentess…"

She lingered on the woman's name as she said it, looking over at the woman she could clearly see the dark amusement settling into her eyes knowing that she had visibly annoyed her.

Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back so her red tresses tumbled over her shoulders, holding in a groan of frustration at herself as the other woman greeted the government agent.

"Hi."

Siobhán gave Prentiss another look out of the corner of her eye, the first time she had allowed herself to do so since they had made their way into the conference room, and she took in the way the other woman lingered across the other side of the table, how she looked a little confused, cedar eyes narrowed.

Shaking her head free of Emily Prentiss, she drifted to Morgan's side and decided it would be best to put distance between themselves. "So… what've you got for us?" he pressed, leaning against the table's edge.

Gesturing to the screen in front of them, Summers cleared his throat. "We were running some archive footage and came across this… January two-thousand-and-two… a classified hearing with the subcommittee on defense and homeland security."

"Right…" Rossi took in a deep breath, disgesting Summers words while his eyes came to settle on General Whitworth uneasily. "Who was its chair?" he added after a few seconds.

"Senator Baylor," Summers answered, pressing a button in the middle of the remote he held which loaded the recording onto the monitor.

"That's Doctor Lawrence Nichols," the General identified, squinting slightly as he pressed forward on his heels.

Rossi's eyes narrowed derisively, "You sure?"

"Absolutely, I'm not an idiot, Agent," the General quipped back sharply, shooting Rossi a glare as if to silence him that no one missed, prompting Siobhán and Morgan to share an apprehensive glance. "He used to work at the institute, he left that same year."

"Except he didn't leave, he was forced out," Summers wasted no time in correcting the General which earned a glower from the man in the far corner of the room.

He pressed play on the remote and the screen began to move in front of them…

"... Five people died," Nichols was saying, his hands clasped tightly in front of him at the desk he was seated at. "If you ask me, we're lucky it was just five… we're lucky that whoever sent these letters used cheap porous envelopes and not a… crop duster," he explained, his apparent passion forceful as he spoke to the subcommittee. "America's enemies are capable of wiping out entire cities… and we are woefully unprepared."

The Senator nodded, "I'm looking at your proposal…"

Nichols pressed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, sitting more upright in his chair at the words. "Yes, sir... Every household needs gas masks and a two-month supply of Cipro for each resident. Every major city needs hospitals with bio-safety decontamination capabilities," he explained, tapping his index finger on the table's surface as if he was demanding it to be so.

He seemed so convinced that there was to be an attack, so invested in his own explanation of what he was proposing and what it would achieve. In her experience, Siobhán knew that rarely anything good came from those who had been pushed aside trying to implement projects that they believed would benefit the masses.

Clearing his throat, the Senator began slowly: "Regarding the budget you propose for this operation-" but Nichols soundly interrupted him…

"Anything short of fifty billion would be grossly negligent."

The Senator almost balked at the words. "Doctor Nichols, you've got to realize how unrealistic that is." He shook his head in complete disbelief, his own words laced with derision.

"Unrealistic?" Nichols spluttered out incredulously.

"We can't justify spending that kind of money on an attack that may not happen," the Senator reasoned measuredly.

Nichols seemed to lose all of his composure at that moment, the Senator's words hitting him like a ton of bricks: "You people are in denial!

Senator Baylor shrunk back slightly at his outburst before righting himself, squaring his shoulders to then lean forward on his elbows. "Doing this would incite fear and panic among the public," he attempted to reason lightly.

"This country should be panicked!" Nichols rose from his seat, bringing the palms of his hands down upon the table's face in a sudden unbridled rage. "We should live in utter fear of being attacked!"

Clearing his throat from where he was seated, Baylor looked to the other man sternly. "Doctor Nichols, please sit down."

Nichols threw his hands into the air around him violently, obviously outraged. "I will not sit down!" he rebuked, enraged as he propelled himself forward in his fury. "We live in a time of war and WMD proliferation. If- if you continue to be blind to our lack of preparedness, then Americans will die, and I will have no problem in pointing the blame at you!" he seethed at Senator Baylor, frenzied as he sent his papers flying from the desk, scattering into the air in a heap on the floor.

He stormed from the room…

The recording paused and Summers set the remote down on the table softly and General Whitworth gave a great sigh, clasping his hands behind his back before gruffly speaking: "The subcommittee were growing concerned, reporting that he was becoming increasingly unstable, even fanatical."

Rossi shot the General a pointed look, "Which is why they removed him from Fort Detrick."

"I'm naht soehrprised…" muttered Siobhán before reaching up to rub her temple, "Guessin' 'e was railroaded frahm ahther prahminent pahsitions?" she asked the question lightly, knowing that she wasn't the only one feeling the tension between Rossi and Whitworth as the two glowered at one another.

"Doctor Nichols is well-respected in our community…" Whitworth offered as an explanation, although Siobhán got the feeling he was opting to leave out a considerate amount of detail. "He believes in preparedness, not proliferation."

Scoffing, Rossi rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Keep telling yourself that," he retorted, shaking his head.

"Well, sahmethin' tells me dat yer man over dere ahbviooehsly felt like people weren't lestenin' to him," Siobhán commented, jerking her head idly in the direction of the screen where Summers had paused the recording.

Morgan nodded, lifting his eyebrows, "Maybe he was just tryin' to prove a point."

Summers nodded, gesturing to the monitor a bit too eagerly as he glanced between the profilers in the room. "It's exactly like you said," he agreed, "He had access… lost a prominent job he put all his efforts into and then got divorced. He fits your profile."

"A startin' point if nahthin' else…" Siobhán offered with a small shrug of her shoulders, looking to Hotch who nodded in agreement.

Hotch sent her an appraising look, accepting her words. "We need to bring him in."

"He works for a company called Bio-Design Technology," Prentiss called out, glancing at the file in front of her on the desk.

The General nodded in affirmation, "We subcontract them…" He saw the looks he immediately received from them all and had little choice but to elaborate: "But they don't work with anthrax, they deal primarily with the flu."

The redhead quirked a brow in challenge. "As far as yer aware," Siobhán asserted, fully aware that if the General was as clued up as he claimed to be, they potentially wouldn't be having to deal with a national concern. Knowing that they needed to move quickly - whether Nichols was the UnSub or not - she turned her attention to the brooding man in the room, "Hotch?"

The unit chief easily met her gaze and gave a curt nod of his head, "Dave, I need you and Prentiss to go to Nichols's office, see what you can find if he's not there… speak to who he works with and find out what you can."

Thank God, Siobhán breathed out a sigh, relieved that she had been paired with Prentiss and knowing she would get to escape her unwelcomed challenge and prolonged cynicism towards her.

She couldn't help but notice that Prentiss also looked incredibly relieved.

Rossi nodded in understanding and started to move to one exit with Prentiss as Hotch wheeled around, "Morgan, take Siobhán and pull Reid from his route to the hospital… go to his home and see if there's anything we can build on from there."

Pushing off from where he was leaning against the table, Morgan gave a firm nod of his head. "On it." His eyes soon caught Siobhán's as he gestured for her to exit first, "After you, sweetness…" He offered her a playful wink, following her from the conference room and jogging down the stairs.

Rolling her own eyes, she shoved at his shoulder. "Yer can coeht dat ooeht."

Laughing, Morgan pulled out his phone from his pocket and steadily himself, dialling quickly across the keypad before bringing the device to his ear. "Hey, Pretty Boy…" he greeted once the line connected, earning another eye roll from Siobhán as they crossed the bullpen. "I'm gonna send you an address, you able to meet Quinn and me there?" He was silent as she could just about make out Reid's voice on the other end, "Cool, we'll see you in a bit."

Pressing her thumb to the button on the wall to hail the lift, Siobhán heard Morgan disconnect the call as the doors swooshed open and they stepped inside. The button for the parking garage clicked as Morgan pressed it, the man leaning against the railing to look at her slowly.

Feeling his eyes on her, Siobhán turned to look at him sharply to see the all-too-familiar smirk playing across his lips. She allowed her eyes to narrow contemplatively, weighing up her bets as to what Morgan was going to say next. "What?" she hedged lightly, her tone undoubtedly curious.

"So, seein' as you get some one-on-one time with me..." He let out a breath, "Can I ask you somethin'?"

Her eyebrows came together in confusion, "Sure."

His smirk remained firmly in place as he answered, "Are you seein' anyone right now?"

Siobhán cocked her head to the side in question, assessing Morgan as he became uncharacteristically (she figured it wasn't something he was accustomed to) closer as they stood in the lift. "Yer really are dat eager?" Her voice was low and playful, and instantly Morgan grinned at the implication before squaring his shoulders in a way that would've made the redhead blanch as she realised he was being serious. "Oh, yer seriooehs, aren't yer?"

Morgan shrugged, unabashedly in his honesty. "Deadly."

Siobhán closed her eyes against the nose, shaking her head, but smiling. "I wasn't keddin' when I said I try naht to mex wahrk 'nd pleasure. Besides, I dahn't dink I'm yooehr type," she asserted, in a voice that was low, calm, and even.

"You don't even know what my type is," Morgan provoked determinedly, quirking an eyebrow and she held back the urge to roll her eyes.

Pausing for a moment, she wondered if Morgan realised what he was walking into or whether he was a man familiar with being told no or that someone, God forbid, wasn't interested in his advances. The mere thought made her hum in amusement and she decided that he was a manwhore and flaunted himself - so, no, he wasn't familiar with being told no if his persistence with her was anything to go by despite consulting on an active case.

Smiling in defeat, she inclined her head at his gall. "True," she acknowledged, her smile not faltering for a moment as she paused in her walking to look at him fully then. Siobhán forced herself to sober and sighed, "Boeht I'm sure I'm naht it, sunshine," Siobhán lowered her voice, her grin turning mischievous.

"Yeah?" He raised a curious brow in her direction. "Don't knock it 'til you try it."

Cocking an eyebrow in his direction, the redhead let out a low snort. "I'll take yooehr wahrd fahr it... boeht I like yer Derek so I'm goin' to be 'ahnest wit yer and I'm a very private persahn, so if anyone else says anythin'... I'll know who it's comb frahm," she added, in a teasing tone although she was being deadly serious.

"Promise." He raised a finger, drawing an 'x' over where his heart should be.

Siobhán found herself smiling again at Morgan's response, "'ave yer ever been ahn a date wit a lesbian?" Her voice was quiet, curious, and amused as the question left her lips to meet Morgan's ears.

Whatever she had thought Morgan might have said or chosen to do in response to the question - and she really had no idea at that point - she hadn't expected him to give her a strange look of momentary confusion before throwing his head back and laughing. Howling, Siobhán internally corrected as she watched him before eventually, she found herself laughing - although, it was another quiet chuckle as she took a step back from the man next to her.

Once his laughter had quietened and died down altogether, Morgan gave her a small shake of his head, followed by a fleeting smile, "There's a first time for everythin'."

Finally, she breathed out and finally spoke after a momentary beat - interestingly, a part of her wondered what Morgan would do with his newly discovered information but another part of her, unsure how small that part was, was tempted to see if he betrayed that same information elsewhere. "Seems dere's a laht to admire abooeht yer, Mahrgan," Siobhán replied in a light voice, a soft smile gracing her lips.

She could see the amusement shining bright in his expression as he shook his head lightly, "It's a damn shame." He shot her a warm smile.

"Ahh, I know..." she replied with a soft chuckle, "I wooehld've rahcked yooehr wahrld," she teased wryly, shaking her head at him.

Siobhán didn't, however, miss the determined glint that flashed in the agent's eyes. "I've gotta ask," Morgan started, "Why is being with a woman better than a guy, 'cause… I've gotta know."

Siobhán let out a loud laugh, tossing her head back.

...

2009. NICHOLS' RESIDENCE, VA

...

Almost surrounded by a miniature woodland of holly trees and overgrown shrubs, the brush subceding the house was overgrown and twisted in its vibrant flames of green, Siobhán found she was unsurprised that Doctor Nicholas's property reflected the demeanour displayed in the recording they saw at the bureau.

Seemingly bearing the same agrestal disorderly and wayward nature as they edged their way slowly towards the house lying mere feet from them now that Morgan had received confirmation that it was mostly clear, a few rooms remaining to be checked.

Sighing from where he shifted before her, Morgan gave tilted his head and regarded the structure before him. "So, this guy just had people over for a charity event last month…" he commented with a slight scowl crossing his face, "And the next, he's plannin' an attack?"

Siobhán got his meaning: it seemed incredibly out-of-character considering how the doctor portrayed himself to others but people did have facades… you'd know all about that, she grumbled internally.

"Look, I 'ear yeer…" Siobhán cut herself off, shaking her head as she met Morgan's eyes, "Even dooehgh it's mahstly comb back clear... it wooehld be a good idea to take a look arooehnd. See if we can fend anythin' dat might give oehs sahme answers, yer know?

Reid shrugged lightly, "Let's go…" He started to stride off in front of them, his expression growing serious until Siobhán saw him catch his left hand against a crudely erected rose bush that was bedraggled, desolate, and altogether mercifully thorny. Reid pulled his palm back towards himself with a sharp hiss, "Ow…" he bit out, shaking the stinging limb.

Siobhán's forehead crinkled, her eyebrows coming together in soft confusion as she faltered in her walking, the noise from Reid also pulling Morgan's attention to him. "Yer 'kay?" she found herself asking, looking at the pricky, reddish bush in wonder before glancing back at the lanky man next to her.

Reid brushed her off, giving another lethargic shrug of his shoulders. "Yeah, it's just a little scratch-"

"-That has you cryin' like a baby," Morgan interjected with a slight smirk.

Siobhán nodded at Morgan's teasing comment, although she found she was unconvinced, biting off a low chuckle and rolling her eyes, "Well, yer know what dey say…"

Reid's expression was far more serious when he fixed his gaze on Siobhán's, "What?"

An indulgent smile crossed her face, "Every rahse 'as its dahrn, joehst like every night 'as its dawn," she finished with a small laugh.

Morgan shook his head, "Poison, really?" He arched a brow playfully, wiggling his finger in her direction with an audible tut. "I thought you were gonna recite Shakespeare or somethin'..."

Siobhán's eyebrows lifted, letting a scoff float past her lips. "Why bahther wit rahmanticesm when yer can have a bet o' glam metal?" She wiped her brow, glowering as the air became an anxious swirl of torrential, melodious drops of rain, soft but plentiful as they began to descend from above them.

A simple, harmonic trill fluttered into the air.

Withdrawing the small device from the back pocket of his jeans, Morgan gave a deep, theatrical sigh as he glanced down at the screen once he had flipped it open with a soft hmm.

Reid eyed Morgan's phone with slight interest, peering over his shoulder to try and see. "Who is it?" he inquired.

Morgan frowned slightly, eyeing the screen dubiously. "Prentiss… she and Rossi must've found somethin'," he guessed with a shrug before answering the call as it continued to ring, half turning away from the pair of them. "Yeah, Prentiss, what's up?"

Watching Morgan wander away, Siobhán sighed and moved to trail behind Reid as he ambled in the direction Nichols' front door, which stood as a spruce-coloured weathered shield framed by the nature around it. The pair of them were spurred on by the dreary fineness of the rain as it grew steadier and steadier, the speed of their ambling becoming more brisk by the second.

"Imagine," Siobhán called out after him, "Wahrkin' yooehr way oehp wethin de defense cahmmunity, gainin' all dat respect ahvers de year ahnly to den be demahted to wahrkin' wit de influenza fahr Bio-Desegn Technahlogy…" she tapped her finger to her chin, deadpanning in thought as she tried to decipher what would have pushed the man to really do such a thing.

She just found the entire predicament bizarre - obviously, the stressors were more than evident but she couldn't exactly pinpoint what would have driven him to target those locations let alone, attack a community he had worked arduously for. He just seemed too dedicated to his work.

Sighing to herself, she eventually shook her head and glanced back in the direction Reid had started in, eyes widening when she saw that he had already reached the front door and was crossing the threshold without so much as a pause. "Reid, slow down!" Siobhán found herself shouting to pull his attention back to her, breaking into a jog to catch up.

"He must have a private workspace around here somewhere," the young doctor explained stridently over his shoulder, not letting up as he continued ahead.

Blinking, Siobhán stuttered in her movements and quickly looked over her shoulder to see Morgan pacing not too far from them in the front garden, rubbing a hand over his temple in thought before she looked back again to see Reid barely waiting. "Well, let's wait fahr Mahrgan to catch oehp den-"

She guessed her words went entirely unheard as he persisted, "We'll just look around…" Reid interjected hastily, holding the next door they met open for her to cross over.

She could feel the irritation settling in her bones, surging within her the more Reid decided to ignore her. What unsettled her was how unruly Reid was suddenly being.

He had been entirely meek and subdued, particularly around her, so to see his assertiveness but more so, lack of awareness to go into a home they knew nothing about disconcerted her more than she cared to admit.

Despite her uneasiness, she found her feet shuffling after Reid - more concerned about losing sight of him than anything else. "I'll 'ahld back fahr Mahrgan…" she found herself affirming softly, slowing in her movements entirely but despite her words, Reid carried on and inched further into the house much to Siobhán's apprehensiveness. "Reid, we shooehld wait- Reid!"

She lost sight of him entirely then.

Letting out a soft, exasperated groan, Siobhán propelled herself forward with determination to catch up with the younger man - silently hoping that by the time she did, her agitation would have dispersed altogether but also because she couldn't decide if she was annoyed with Reid or because she was still wearing her stupid heels - swiftly rounding a corner, only to come to a screeching halt when she was met with a-

SWOOSH!

The door in front of her clicked shut.

"Reid?"

Had he… had he locked the door?

Her right palm seized the handle to what she could see as a home laboratory but it didn't budge. He'd locked the door… Siobhán tried again, the handle stiff and unyielding as she pressed her weight against the frame but no movement came.

"What in the-"

THUMP… THUMP…

Her eyes furrowed in confusion as she brought the palm of her opposite down on the pane of glass, banging slightly to hopefully get Reid's attention from inside. "Reid!" she called out, bringing her palm down again. "What're yer doin'?" Rolling her eyes, annoyance curling through her, she let a blow of breath out when the man came into view looking utterly startled.

When Reid eventually spoke, Siobhán stilled. There was an unsettling edge of disconcertment to his voice which roused an overwhelming wave of desperation that started to rise inside of her as he came into focus.

"Spencer… what's wrong?" Her eyes studied his face carefully, tracing every concerned etching as it settled more resolutely there. "Spencer…" Siobhán silently urged, lifting a single brow in question as she pressed herself against the door.

Shaking his head profusely, Reid stepped away from the door. "Siobhán, I can't…" He gave her a lingering look as though he was unsure, trepidatious. "Believe me, just get back." His voice was distant and nearly pleading which Siobhán wasn't familiar with at all.

She knew she didn't like it… at all.

Shaking her head slightly, she tried the handle yet again and let out a gruff sigh. "Tell me-" Siobhán cut herself off, coming to stare up at him dumbly as her handle fell limply to her side.

His curiosity had come with a price. She tried to peer past him and into the room and she saw, well, she thought she saw what she could make out to be a hand… or… oh. Her eyes flew to Reid in an instant.

"Oh, yer stupid…" She tilted her head slightly, wanting to demand to know, focusing all of her attention on Reid because she had to be sure that she wasn't imagining things and that Reid had wandered into Nichols's personal workspace and subsequent murder and there was obviously a threat in there enough for him to determine that locking himself in there was the safest option. "Where is it?" She had to be sure.

Reid avoided her eye, "Not too far away… the air con's on, there's a broken vile on the floor," he murmured quietly.

Siobhán gritted her teeth, bringing her palms down against the glass pane that separated her from Reid. "Spencer, why?"

His forehead crinkled slightly in thought before he opened his mouth to reply and-

"Quinn?" A short pause before: "Reid!"

Morgan's distinct, wistful timbre called out from the expanse of the garden, repeating himself as his calling of their names grew louder and more tense, the gruff tone making her hackles rise on the back of her neck.

She didn't miss the panicked look as it flashed across Reid's face.

"What are yer goin' to say to 'im…" she trailed off, jerking her head towards the direction she had come from moments before, knowing that it wouldn't be long before Morgan appeared. She stared at him for a few seconds, as if she was trying to figure out Reid's thought process and why on Earth he ever thought to lock himself in there would be a good idea.

She just- she couldn't wrap her head around it.

"Spencer, let me in… joehst let me-"

Reid quickly shook his head, "No!"

Morgan's voice rose up again:

"Reid? Quinn!"

Stepping away from the door, Siobhán swallowed thickly before clearing her throat: "Morgan! In 'ere!" she announced to him, hearing his footsteps resonating against the floor as he strode over the threshold to round the corner sharply, stumbling to a halt when he saw Siobhán's back pressed up against the glass, her palms splayed out on it with Reid stood away on the other side.

"There you ar-"

"No," Ried called out again, his voice shaking. "Get- get back!"

Morgan's eyebrows knitted together and as he looked over at Siobhán, his look of suspicion fizzled away to be replaced by one of concern instead, obviously taking in her apprehensive stance. "What're you doin'? What's wrong?" He glanced between the pair of them quickly.

"No… nothing! Just get out of here!"

Siobhán watched as Morgan stepped closer, his eyes searching Reid's slowly and she immediately wondered what he was looking for, trying to decipher the lie evident in Reid's voice as he spoke, wanting to know what Morgan was thinking before he eventually, eventually, let out a defeated sigh.

He's got it… Siobhán bit out but she wasn't sure if she was full of dread or relief.

"You stupid, stupid…" Morgan bit out, banging his palm against the glass in sheer frustration. "Don't tell me what I think it is…"

"Believe me, get back…" he repeated, shrinking back from behind the glass.

"Reid, just open the door!"

Reid, despite the conflicted look on his face, shook his head. "I'm sorry," he deadpanned.

And then she saw the dawning of understanding, seconds before the other agent shot her a look, "Why would you do that? We're gonna need to tell Hotch…"

Siobhán heaved out a deep breath, blanching slightly as she imagined how the conversation would go when Hotch learned that Reid had been stupid enough to lock himself in Nichols's home lab with an active strain of anthrax exposed to him.

Retrieving her mobile from her pocket, Siobhán wiggled it in their direction and sighed. "On it…" she mumbled, selecting his number before bringing it to her ear.

Riiiiing… riiiiing… riiii-

Hotch's voice met her ear quickly, deep and firm, what she need to ground herself. "Siobhán… how's the search at the house coming along?"

If only it gave her the courage she found she was lacking in that moment-

"Aarahn…" she found herself letting out quietly, unsure of how to go about it considering she barely knew his team at all.

"Siobhán, what have you found?"

Clenching her teeth, Siobhán looked over her shoulder to see Morgan press his forehead to the glass, his jaw clenched and shoulders squared. "'ow quickly can yer get 'ere?" She hedged around telling the whole truth, not entirely sure how he would react.

There was a short pause and she knew that he was picking apart her choice of words during those fleeting moments of silence.

"Why?" Hotch pressed lightly, his tone assertive. "What's happened?"

She had known the man a long while and had worked with him on a good handful of cases but they had always been at arm's length… this had just gotten horribly personal now that Reid was at risk. She wasn't entirely comfortable with being the one to tell Hotch that one of his team was now in danger for his own recklessness.

But rather her distance than Morgan's fury.

With a deep breath, she let her shoulders drop in defeat. He would find out anyway, she reasoned to herself. "Reid's been expahsed," she explained quickly, rushing the words out.

"What?" she heard Hotch demand, his voice becoming uncharacteristically unsteady at that moment that it caught Siobhán off guard. "How?" he pressed again, his voice dropping significantly before the line went silent. "Wait- it doesn't matter, I'm on my way. I'll ring you when we arrive."

The line disconnected.

Pulling her mobile away from her ear slowly, Siobhán returned to Morgan's side as the man turned to look at her expectantly. "'Ahtch is en route," she murmured in reply, shifting uncomfortably on her feet.

Dark eyebrows came together and Siobhán knew that he was waiting for her to say more by his expression, to fill the silence between them but she had no more to give him.

Morgan rounded on Reid, a scowl pulling across his brow in what Siobhán could clearly see was frustration. "Y'know how stupid you are, right? Because this is a whole other level of stupid… even for you," Morgan commented bitterly, making Reid wince at his words.

"Ditto…" Siobhán bit out, folding her arms over her chest to brace herself.

"I didn't realise until it was too late…"

Morgan suddenly shot him an incredulous look, "Why didn't you just wait for me?"

"Then we'd all be in this mess," Reid informed the two of them opposite him, a mortifyingly guilty look ascending his features. "I'm sorry."

Siobhán lifted an eyebrow as she regarded Reid quietly for a moment, her voice surprisingly light when she spoke. "Reid, might 'ave a point…" She knew that Morgan's anger wouldn't do anyone any good in the slightest. "Boeht we shooeld 'ave waited fahr de 'azmat team to clear it befahre even enterin'."

"You took Cipro this morning, didn't you?" Reid nodded, the uncertain look unwavering from his face but Morgan was satisfied enough with the response. "Then, you'll be fine… it'll be all good."

Reid blanched, giving him an unbelieving look, "We don't know how bad this strain really is."

Green eyes widened incredulously, Siobhán's palms coiling into fists as she moved forward. "Yer can stahp wit dat right now," she implored.

"Quinn's right, you're gonna get out of here."

"But-"

She promptly cut him off: "Dahn't look at oehs like dat... joehst believe it," she reminded him, needlessly, exasperation colouring her tone, briefly rolling her eyes.

Allowing his vexation to get the better of him, Morgan slammed his fist against the wall nearest to the home laboratory which had Reid jumping away from the door before pushing off from where he stood helplessly at the door, letting out a greatly frustrated groan of disbelief. "This can't be happenin'..." he ground out, his jaw ticking in his growing outrage.

Siobhán met Reid's startled gaze and shot him a sympathetic look.

Following him, Siobhán nodded resolutely as he came to hover beside him. "Hey, it's not yer fault…" she called to Morgan, giving his arm a comforting squeeze to try and pull him back to reality although she was half expecting him to pull away from her but he didn't.

Instead, Morgan stood there frozen with a deeply furrowed brow.

"It's not the point, Quinn," Morgan stressed after a few moments, Siobhán's verdant orbs tracking his facial expression carefully as he eventually came to stare at her, his gaze alight with renewed concern. "We're meant to look out for one another…" he murmured, clenching his fists.

Siobhán's jaw set as she sighed, knowing that Morgan getting angry wouldn't benefit any of them - they need to think soundly if they were to resolve this timely and for the best without further danger. "Then blame me," she quickly added in a proposal, almost urging as she spoke.

But Morgan wouldn't have any of it, tsking at her with a violent shake of his head.

They both knew she had absolutely nothing to do with it but it was easier to shift the blame to an outsider than to deal with the potential heartbreak that could unravel from Reid's actions.

"He should've known better… he does this all the time," Morgan explained, an unusual mocking tone to his voice as though he should have realised Reid would have taken the opportunity if given it. "He took advantage of you, wanderin' off…" he muttered derisively.

She narrowed her eyes at him, scoffing - none of them knew what was in the house so how did he think Reid knew? There was certainly no fair judgment in that. "Nahthin'll comb frahm pointin' blame... we joehst need to get 'im ooeht and to de 'ahspital, alright?" she replied slowly and was even more irritated at that moment that Morgan was allowing his anger to cloud his judgment.

Her stomach knotted.

Her eyebrows drew together slightly before she purposefully smoothed them out.

Riiiiing… riiiiing… riiii-

She was grateful the shrill chime of her phone broke through the silence and she almost jumped to answer it, her eyes never leaving Morgan as she brought it up to her ear and answered.

"We're about two minutes away…" Hotch's voice greeted her steadily, grainy on the other end and oddly distant, signalling to her that he was more than likely on hands-free.

Siobhán sighed lightly, "We'll meet yer ooeht frahnt," she replied and hung up, gesturing towards the nearest door. "'Ahtch is two minutes away frahm oehs…" she trailed off with a soft look, seeing Morgan watching Reid through the glass pane as he wandered around the lab, inspecting carelessly lain papers. "Morgan," the man in question met her eyes slowly, a solemn glow to them that almost made the pit of her stomach drop lower than it already was. "'e'll be ahkay, I prahmise."

Morgan looked hesitant as he met her gaze, opening his mouth to probably argue when Reid's voice rose up from behind them.

"It's definitely Nichols…"

Looking back over her shoulder, Siobhán saw the gangly doctor lingering at the door tentatively; she tilted her head, narrowing her eyes in thought, "'e's dead?" she grumbled slightly, a frown tugging at her lips as she bit back yet another sigh.

"Two days… maybe three," Reid agreed, "Wouldn't be too sure."

Siobhán arched an eyebrow, "Fooehll play, y'reckon?" she dared to ask the young doctor.

"... Seems that way," Reid called back to them after a few moments., his eyes trailing to Morgan as the other agent marched away from him and out of the door.

Siobhán winced, sending Reid a tight-lipped smile. "Ahkay, we'll let 'Ahtch know," she replied coolly before turning to follow Morgan back over the threshold into the nippy chill that had settled outside.

She faltered slightly as she saw Hotch and Whitworth emerging from the SUV, the former stalking his way over to them at a thundering pace to easily meet them halfway.

The frown Hotch wore was terrifying.

The Unit Chief tilted his head, the concerned look in his eyes even more prominent with his immovable scowl. "How's Reid doing?"

Clearing her throat, the redhead sighed and looked over at Morgan, giving a slight shake of her. "Ahbviooehsly regrettin' 'is decision…" she decided on with a slight hum in confirmation, knowing that Morgan would be all harsh words of frustration.

"There's a white substance in the room and the air-con was blastin' it around... idiot."

The Unit Chief looked conflicted then. "Morgan-"

But as soon as Morgan's words registered in Siobhán's mind, she couldn't stop herself. Her mouth fell open in blatant indignation and she was immediately cutting off Hotch: "'e dedn't know at de time," Siobhán shot back lightly, with a firm tone suddenly alive in her voice.

"Get a decon team suited up…" Whitworth turned to one of the agents that had attended with them, gesturing to the entrance to the property behind her and Morgan almost dismissively, "Secure a grey zone outside that door… the Agent inside, clean him up and get him in the ambulance fast."

"We should've been right there with him," Morgan mumbled, shaking his head.

"Mahrgan, comb ahn…" Siobhán's eyebrows drew together as she turned to give the burly agent a concerned look, "Stahp beatin' yooehrself oehp abooeht it."

"Siobhán's right…" Hotch jerked his head in her direction, his hand coming to settle on the small of her back with a soft sigh. "There's no time for second-guessing… what do we know?" He glanced between the pair of them as she and Morgan shared a quick look.

Siobhán lifted an eyebrow, before she reached up to her own hair, running a hand through her tresses to shake them out quickly. "We know fahr certain dat Nechahls is dead… bloehnt fahrce trauma to 'is 'eah," she explained resolutely with a dark look crossing her face. "Reid dinks 'e's been dead at least two ahr three days."

The General frowned, "Well, then he couldn't have been responsible for the attack…"

Her other eyebrow arched upwards in response to the man, and Siobhán hummed in affirmation. "Exactly what we were dinkin'..."

"Reid took Cipro today, so he's gotta be okay, right?" Morgan ground out through gritted teeth, his eyes refusing to meet anyone as he glowered into the ground, shoulders hunched over.

The colour drained from Hotch's face before he eventually gave a defeated shrug of his shoulders, the hand on the small of Siobhán's back dropping entirely. "I don't know... it was only precautionary."

Form beside Hotch, the General added with a light shrug: "It's not helping patients at the hospital."

"Yer naht helpin'," Siobhán remarked tersely in reflex, glowering over at the man as Morgan's head snapped in his direction disturbingly fast.

"Yeah," he agreed lightly, "But the others didn't take it until after they were exposed… Reid took it before."

The General, however, wasn't having any of it. "But we've never tested this strain on a cipro-ready subject, so we…" A ding from his jacket pocket rose up into the air, cutting him off momentarily as he moved to retrieve his phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen before continuing: "We just don't know," he rebuked in an eerie finality, backing away from them to answer his phone.

How convenient, Siobhán inclined her head at him with her glare ever-present.

"General, you're not helping…" Hotch repeated in a low murmur but loud enough that the other man would definitely hear him.

Siobhán rounded on the man adorned in a decorated uniform, her voice dangerously low as she spoke, taking herself aback in some surprise. "Yer quickly becombin' one o' me least favourite people," she added in warning, before taking a deep breath and trying to gather herself as she turned back to Morgan, setting a firm hand on his shoulder. This was far more than she signed on for. Far more. "Reid'll be fine."

Morgan heaved out a sigh, "I hope you're right."

Pulling out his phone from inside his jacket, Siobhán watched as Hotch quickly found Reid in his contact list and started ringing him, setting it on speaker.

Riiiiing… riii-

"Reid," Hotch jumped in immediately, his brow furrowing deeper (if that was even possible).

The line was quiet for a few seconds before Reid's voice appeared: "Hotch, I really messed up this time." He sounded so defeated and Siobhán couldn't help but imagine him with his shoulders slumped in exasperation, pacing in his solitude.

"You think?" Morgan all but demanded, blowing out a deep breath as he shoved his hands deeply into his pockets.

Hotch chose to ignore Morgan's comment, "Reid, we need to get you out and to the hospital."

Reid scoffed from the other end: "No, I'm staying right here."

From her right, Morgan let out a long-suffering sight. "No, you're not, Reid," Morgan argued through a clenched jaw, his words coming out in a steeled resolve.

Siobhán pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure she could feel building in her skull, knowing that an argument with Reid would be utterly impossible and altogether pointless despite how much she wished he would listen to his peers. "Dahn't be an idiot."

"I'm already exposed," his voice answered in reason and Siobhán let out a sigh while Morgan buried his head into the palm of his hands. "It's not gonna do me any good to stop working the case… It makes sense for me to stay in here."

The General cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest and nodded, obviously agreeing with Reid's argument. "He's right, he's already infected," he repeated carefully, his eyes flickering over each of them and lingering on Morgan as he glared over at him. "Now, if Nichols created the strain, he may have also created the cure… which is probably in there."

Morgan was almost spluttering by that point: "You- really? You can't be serious right now… no, absol-"

"My best chance is to stay here, see if there's a cure… maybe try to figure out who killed Doctor Nichols."

Throwing his hands up into the air, Morgan let out a bitter laugh and shook his head before letting his head roll in Hotch's direction, coming to his wit's end. "C'mon, Hotch, say somethin' to him," Morgan pleaded, staring at his boss in disbelief that he would even consider letting Reid stay in there but then again, to Siobhán it made complete sense for Reid to linger in there.

The longer he was in there, the more of an opportunity he had to find anything that could help them further down the line… even if she didn't want to admit it, and to make matters worse, she could see the familiar recognition of that exact thought dawning across Hotch's face.

"Mahrgan, I know yer 'ate it boeht 'e's right…" Siobhán folded her arms, lifting her eyebrows at him in the same way she'd always done when she was displeased with him. "'is best chance is stayin' inside and fendin' what we need."

She could see the uneasiness as it settled on Hotch's face as he, too, relented. "We're gonna get a suit and mask into you right away."

"Don't bother, it's not gonna do me any good. I'm already infected."

Hotch frowned again, falling silent for a few moments as though he was conflicted with himself over reaching a decision but Reid was right - he had the best chance at finding out everything he could from inside the lab even if he was against the clock.

Something within Hotch relented: "Reid, what do you see in there?"

"Uh, there are cages filled with dead animals…" Reid began slowly, unsure, as though he was trying to piece everything he was seeing together as he saw it. "Signs of a struggle, probably before Doctor Nichols was murdered… I think some equipment is missing but I can't be too sure…" He trailed off for a moment, the line going quiet except for the faint echo of his footsteps as he shuffled around; his voice soon re-emerged, this time with a thoughtful lilt to it: "There's a large desk to one side, clutter all over it but in the other corner, there's a smaller one… but this one is different, it's organised, functional…"

"Mm," Morgan confirmed with a crinkled brow, the short sound seeming pensive. "So, two different workspaces?" he asked after a moment.

"Two sets of handwriting," Reid affirmed, an upswing to his voice that had the only woman among them freezing, her eyes widening in a sudden, dumb realisation.

Siobhán rolled her eyes, throwing her head back in complete frustration as she saw Whitworth wandering back over to them from the corner of her eye. "O' cooehrse!" she exclaimed unexpectedly, jolting Morgan in complete surprise from beside her as he sent her a puzzled look.

"I'm looking at instructions on how to boil lab-grade broth, sterilise lab equipment, and transfer spores…"

There was a considering look in the General's eye for a moment, "Well, Nichols would know all that."

Green eyes narrowed at Hotch for a moment as she slowly came to realise the obvious and sighed. Of course, Nichols had been a teacher! An advocate for learning! She brought a palm to the crown of her head and groaned, "Ahkay…" she laughed to herself stupidly, rolling her eyes before turning to the men in front of her. "So, 'e 'as a partner, maybe even a prahtege dat we 'adn't cahnsidered befahre," she ventured, biting her lip thoughtfully.

"Go back to the bureau, you need to try and figure out who this partner is before there's another attack."

Hotch held Morgan's gaze for a few moments before lifting his eyebrows, relenting even though Siobhán could see he wanted to say so much more. "If you get any worse, you get out," he sighed, even as she could see his jaw working, clenching his teeth. "Promise me, Reid. "

"I-"

"Don't," Morgan cut him off, eyes narrowed dangerously as he glared down at Hotch's phone, "Just promise the man."

The line was silent Reid's end before eventually he cleared his throat, "'Course, Hotch," he agreed in a quip before hanging up.

Tucking away his phone into the pocket inside his suit jacket, Hotch reached up to straighten the knot of his tie which Siobhán figured was a nervous tick of sorts - he'd obviously not expected for one of them to become compromised - and he coughed to clear his throat. "Right, we-"

"Hotch –" Morgan cut in, his voice quieter and much softer than it was before, "Why don't you and Quinn go?" he suggested, "I'll stay with Reid."

Siobhán didn't miss the reluctance flash across the older man's face as he hesitated, seemingly conflicted until he steadied himself. "Funnel all the information you get to me," Hotch called after Morgan, who had already turned on his heel in the direction of the house before he took a deep breath and turned toward Siobhán with a soft look settling across his face. "You're with me."

She realised she must've looked conflicted herself judging by the look of concern Hotch was giving her as they turned back, briskly walking to where he had parked without so much as a word exchanged between them until Siobhán went to reach for the handle of the door on the passenger side.

Hotch sounded unsure when his voice reached her as though he wasn't familiar with speaking in such a way - that, or, he was just incredibly awkward.

Glancing around carefully, Hotch reached his hand out to settle on her arm, pulling her to a stop. "Neither of you are at fault here." His eyes narrowed worriedly, his voice having grown even lower than she thought was possible.

She gritted her teeth so hard that it nearly hurt, dropping her hand from the handle. "I lahst sight o' 'im. I dedn't dink 'e wooehld actually go in…"

Hauling open the passenger door to the SUV for her, Hotch leaned against it in thought. "Reid is known for his…" Hotch faltered for a second, pursing his lips as he sought out the word he was looking for to describe the youngest member of his team before settling on: "... Impulsiveness and-"

She bit the inside of her cheek so hard as he spoke, unable to ignore how tense her shoulders had grown until she couldn't stop herself from interrupting him, "Well, I wesh sahmeone 'ad tahld me dat befahre," Siobhán sighed, humming softly under her breath, her hands balling into fists.

Hotch gave her an exasperated look, his voice impossibly soft when he spoke. "You weren't to know," he attempted to reason in a way she guessed was meant to make her feel better, his other hand eventually falling from its place on her forearm.

It didn't make her feel any better. It made her feel ignorant. And stupid.

Instead, her frustration continued to mount, bubbling away inside of her and she bit her tongue to keep it at bay. She rolled her shoulders, willing the tension to shift from them as she pushed them back.

She wasn't used to this… pretending to care. She was already finding it exhausting but decided that was purely due to the fact that she was surrounded on all sides by profilers which normally wasn't a problem.

…

Barrelling into the conference room from the catwalk, Siobhán was becoming increasingly familiar with being out of breath when being with Hotch - everything was a matter of urgency to the man, there was no time for dawdling or going at a normal pace, apparently... she remarked to herself in amusement.

Giving a deep sigh, Hotch glanced at the two women already in the room before setting his gaze firmly on the technical analyst. "What have you got, Garcia?"

"Chad Brown applied for a civilian position at Fort Detrick four different times."

Agent Jareau slid a file towards General Whitworth, jerking her head in its direction. "Here's his employment application history…" she murmured, although she sounded distracted and that immediately drew Siobhán's attention to her as she took in the smaller blonde in the room.

The small woman looked flushed, almost flustered as she continued to speak, a sheen of unshed tears glazing her eyes which had Siobhán inclining her head openly at her. "... most recent one anyway," Jennifer added, gesturing to certain points on the application. "They're pretty much the same for each time he applied, so-"

"He never got past the psych evals," the General remarked grimly, casting his eyes over the applications with a deeply furrowed brow as he soundly cut Jennifer off, his abruptness clearly startling her as her head snapped up to look at him. "Is it appropriate to sacrifice the lives of the few to save the many?"

From Siobhán's side, Hotch grimaced. "He answered yes."

The General huffed in agreement, "Every time." He gave a firm nod of his head, "That's why he never got hired."

"Well, if 'e cooehldn't get into Fahrt Detreck, den bein' clahse to Nechahls was de next best din 'e cooehld 'ahpe to settle fahr…" she breathed in deeply through her nose, drawing it in as she turned her head slightly to look at the photo of their UnSub that the technical analyst had pinned to the board to their right. "No matter 'ow tempahrary."

"It suited his agenda for the interim," Hotch hmph'd and crossed his arms, "Until he was ready."

"We talked to his thesis adviser…" Garcia trailed off, waving her hand a bit before cringing, sneaking a glance over at Jennifer worriedly.

"And?" Hotch prompted, arching a brow as his own eyes flitted between the two of them expectantly.

Garcia paled slightly. "In his proposal, he was gonna write about the ease of making homemade anthrax…" she trailed off, shrugging sheepishly, clasping her hands together although Siobhán was sure if it was from anxiety or embarrassment - neither she understood because it was abundantly clear that Garcia was a valued member of the team. Clearing her throat, Garcia continued: "... and interviewed Doctor Nichols just to prove his point."

"Get the address to Prentiss and Rossi," Hotch ordered, taking a deep breath and shaking his head - but at who, Siobhán was entirely uncertain.

"Yes, sir," Garcia mumbled, cutting her gaze to Jennifer as their Unit Chief wasted no more time and wheeled around to stride briskly from the room with a renewed purpose, the General hot on his heels as he followed behind.

Feeling slightly perplexed, Siobhán watched as the two men eventually disappeared down the catwalk and out of sight before glancing back over her shoulder, catching a faint glimpse of Garcia scurrying from the room with her phone in hand.

Only Jennifer remained, the same look of uneasiness spreading across her face as she bit her lip, her jaw ticking before Siobhán realised she had turned around fully. She needed to know what was bothering her seeing as no one else seemed to be concerned enough to ask. It's eating away at her…

"Agent Jareau…" Siobhán tilted her head a bit, inclining it toward the only other person who remained in the room, slowly drawing the blonde's attention to her. Blue eyes narrowed in thought. "We dahn't really know each ahther…" she reflected, rubbing her hand over her forehead and grimacing slightly, immediately understanding the response before she bit out a light snort. "We've barely spahken to be 'ahnest… boeht are yer alright?" she repeated, her voice gentle and coaxing as she sobered.

The other woman immediately looked conflicted - even though it flashed across her face and disappeared in an instant - before her expression went back to something that was almost strained, even as she made a veiled attempt to smile. "Yeah…"

Siobhán pursed her lips, her eyebrows drawing together as she assessed the blonde quietly. If no one else was going to check in with her, then the least she could do was make a point and if she refused to divulge, then at least she tried. Sound judgment, Siobhán told her before clearing her throat, she found herself asking again, "Are yer ahkay?"

A look of uncertainty flashed across Jennifer's face before she settled on a faint: "No…it's just, I-" Cutting herself off, she forced herself to take a deep breath, steeling herself before she opened her eyes to meet Siobhán's again. "I hate cases like these…" Burying her face in her hands, the woman groaned. "Our phones and emails are being monitored to protect against the media blackout. I can't stand it," she let out in a gulp, blinking quickly but Siobhán found she still felt dubious if that was the real reason.

Siobhán searched her face, looking skeptical, "Dey dahn't get any easier either... I guess it's de naht knowin' dat's de wahrst part, when'll it be over... if it'll be over." Siobhán only arched an eyebrow at her in clear disbelief, before she took a step closer, "Yer seem mahre affected dan de ahthers…" She tipped her head to the side slowly, her eyes narrowing thought. "Why is dat?"

The resolve in the blonde's eyes eventually crumbled.

"I have a seventh-month-old…" Jennifer breathed out, her voice practically shaking.

Her mouth fell open in realization, oh. It made complete and utter sense to her then. She was beside herself in worry for the safety of her son… who wouldn't be that way?

Tilting her head to the side, she narrowed her eyes and with a light hmm, she nodded in eventual understanding. "It remends yer o' de Amerithrax attack…" she murmured thoughtfully, her eyes surveying the uneasiness in the blonde's shoulders. "Dat baby was fine, de strain was curable," Siobhán reminded lightly.

Jennifer sucked in a deep breath before she shook her head slightly and looked at Siobhán with a defeated look befalling her pretty face. "In the end, " she stressed, "But we don't know anything about this one."

"True," Siobhán agreed, "Boeht, de baby soehrvived." Her tone was low yet firm as she took another step closer and went against everything in her code to grasp the other woman's hand firmly in her own, tugging it into a soft squeeze.

"I know, I do. I just…" her voice died, shuddering in another breath before carrying on: "… I- I just don't know how to do this…" she lamented, her voice sounding so weak, surprise flashing across her face as though she hadn't realised the words had come out of her mouth. "I can't stop thinking about Henry… he goes for a walk almost every single day at Potomac Park…"

Glancing down, Siobhán could feel Jennifer's hand shaking slightly in her own as she held it. Tightening her grip, she sucked in a deep breath before offering in a whisper, "Show me a phahto o' 'im."

The blonde was quiet for a moment as she appeared to take in what Siobhán had said. Blue eyes closed for a couple of seconds as she fought to collect herself before they opened again, her face suddenly unreadable.

"What?" Jennifer grit out quietly, her blue eyes flickered up to her in curiosity as though she didn't understand her meaning and maybe she hadn't. "I-"

"Jennifer," Siobhán's interjection came swiftly and quietly, forcing her tone to remain calm as she hoped to settle the other woman's worry. "Show me a phahto," she repeated, "If yer want to, dat is."

Jennifer gave her a thoughtful look for a couple of seconds but then her face melted into a self-deprecating smile, realising that she had misunderstood Siobhán's meaning the first time before reaching into her back pocket, pulling out at her phone once both hands were returned to her.

Her dainty hands moved before she turned her phone in Siobhán's direction, having pulled up a photo. The redhead reminded herself that she was to appear somewhat personable. Taking a close look at her phone held in front of them, Siobhán smiled when she saw the small baby in a pair of arms (she guessed were Jennifer's). "'e's beautifoehl…" she commented brightly, "'e looks a laht like yer," she added with an indulgent smile although she knew she wasn't maternal in any sense of the word.

"You think?" Jennifer asked, her voice quieter than before, more serious as she narrowed her eyes and looked up at Siobhán.

Siobhán allowed a small smile to pull across her lips as she nodded but it was quickly replaced in seconds by a deep frown, her forehead crinkling as her eyes brightened, sparkling with concern as she held Jennifer's gaze. "We 'ave a soehspect and we'll get 'im." She shifted to slide her fingers around the blonde's again, giving it a quick squeeze. "Yer'll go 'ahme to 'enry… 'ahld ahnto dat."

Jennifer's hand tightened around hers when Siobhán moved to pull away, "Siobhán…" the other woman started, drawing the redhead's attention back to her easily, their eyes meeting.

"Mhmm?" Siobhán offered in a murmur.

The blonde squeezed her hand tighter that time, "Thank you." She gave her a warm smile before she finally let go.

"Don't mention it..." Siobhán trailed off, tilting her head meaningfully at the other woman.

The blonde looked as though she was about to say something else but an agent appeared from the door closest to the west side of the room - Siobhán wasn't too sure but she thought he was called Anderson - clearing his throat to draw their attention to him.

"Agent Jareau, there's a call for you in your office," he announced to Jennifer, his eyes meeting Siobhán's momentarily before looking away quickly.

Nodding, Jennifer sighed and collected the paperwork from the table hurriedly to return to her office, "Uh, thanks..." She sent him a quick smile, pursing her lips as she started in the direction of the door before pausing, glancing back over her shoulder. "Siobhán?"

Siobhán, who lifted her eyebrows at her in question, watched the other woman become pensive for a couple of seconds as she regarded her quietly. "You can call me Jayje."

The redhead paused as she met her eyes, slowly processing what she had said to her.

Jayje… Siobhán tilted her head, an amused expression on her face as she recited the name in her mind and eventually came to realise that the woman had given her blessing for her to refer to on another level - one of her friends? - which caught her completely off guard.

She hadn't expected that at all.

So... both Morgan and Jareau are on side, Siobhán mused thoughtfully albeit a little surprised with how simple it was proving to edge her way into getting them to trust her.

Siobhán saw a slow smile grace Jayje's lips and she found herself returning the smile before moving towards the door on the opposite side, descending the catwalk to see Morgan striding in from the doors that led to the bullpen with a dark look on his face.

"Mahrgan!" Siobhán called out to him, his eyes immediately floating to meet her eyes as her heels clicked in a rhythmical tempo down the small flight of steps.

Morgan met her halfway, "Quinn, what'd we know?" he pressed slowly, narrowing his eyes a bit as she realised that he was assessing her body language to try and read her before she said anything more to him.

"De UnSu-"

Siobhán was soundly cut off before she could even get started.

"Derek…"

The pair of them turned instantly, not because of who had spoken but because of how it met them. Garcia's voice was… oddly desperate to match her crumpled face that looked… utterly distraught. It had Siobhán's hackles on edge in an instant.

"Y'okay, princess?" Morgan pushed, concern immediately lacing his words.

Siobhán understood the concern in them when she saw how distressed Garcia looked, lingering at the stairs that led to the catwalk uneasily with her brows drawn together in a wobbled wrinkle. Whatever it was, it wasn't good…

Garcia visibly grimaced, eyes wide as Morgan started towards her. "Doctor Kimura called. Reid's in trouble-" she cut herself off, swallowing hard as a deep look of consternation settled on her usually beaming face.

Siobhán caught Garcia's eyes with her own, "Trooehble?" she echoed, seeking clarity from her as she looked to Morgan, watching as the crestfallen look took over.

"What d'you mean?" he bit out quietly.

Garcia looked as though her stomach had completely bottomed out of her. "He got way sicker on the way to the hospital." Her hands fidgeted in front of her as she clasped them together, something flashing across her face that Siobhán couldn't quite make out before Garcia started to rock back and forth on her heels. "He's in respiratory distress."

"What?!"

From behind them, there was a sharp inhale of breath and when Siobhán wheeled around, she saw that Hotch had made his way over swiftly with Whitworth in tow, pinching the bridge of his nose as he caught Garcia's words - Siobhán knew that the last thing he wanted was for them to get too emotionally caught up in everything going on with Reid. "Listen, I know it's hard-"

Morgan's frown only deepened and he narrowed his eyes at Hotch incredulously as he moved to round on his Unit Chief. "Hard?" he intoned lowly, clenching his jaw in frustration and sucking in a deep breath. "I'll tell you what's hard, Hotch…"

"-but he's with the people who can help him the most right now. I need everybody's head here right now if we're to find this guy."

Hotch had a point.

There was a more presiding concern with trying to stop Brown from succeeding in another attack - the safest place for Reid was the hospital and all they could do was hope. She knew the difficulty was because, this time she had become privy to knowing, they were like a family - supported one another, looked after one another, and even loved one another.

The redhead gave Morgan a small, comforting smile even though she was sure it wouldn't do anything. "'e'll be fine." Siobhán frowned, taking a step closer to the agent as she felt the anxiousness radiating off of him.

Morgan agreed, "He has to be," he snapped, quietly, and Siobhán's gaze snapped to him as she moved on her own accord to squeeze his muscular forearm.

Hotch, however, didn't seem to harbour the same comfort - but if he did, which Siobhán imagined so, he was able to push it under the surface. "Morgan, is your head in this?" he demanded, his voice rough as he stared at the other man with a steeled gaze.

Before Morgan could gather a reply, a soft voice broke out into the air: "Guys!"

Rushing down the stairs from behind, the clicking of Jayje's boots caught all their attention. "Okay, so, uh…" she announced, inserting herself into the group, an apprehensive look crossing her face. "I've just got off the phone with Brown's sister… turns out they've been estranged for years…"

"Never a good segn," Siobhán mused, a concerned frown befalling her face. "Was she able to give yer anythin'?"

Morgan lifted his eyebrows, scratching at his chin as he leaned against the edge of the desk behind himself. "Did she say anythin' about the park or the bookstore?"

Jayje sucked in a deep breath before she started to replay the conversation she'd shared with Brown's sister. "Apparently, Quiet Hills park was where he proposed to a girl and she said no. The bookstore's where he worked to put himself through college, I guess he's bitter about not being promoted…"

Huffing out a sigh, Siobhán turned to face them all, "So, both lahcations represent rejection to 'im," she murmured in finality, punctuated with a nod.

"So, what's our next move?" Morgan asked dubiously, arching a brow as he glanced between everyone around him.

Hotch cleared his throat, calling their attention, "Prentiss and Rossi found maps of transit systems at Brown's house…" he explained, his eyebrows descending on his forehead. "Garcia?" he called out to the technical analyst, prompting with a jerk of his head.

"Yeah, here we go," Garcia turned and rushed off to the closest desk behind her where her laptop was set up, passing General Whitworth as he approached them with a grim expression firmly in place.

Frowning, Morgan push off of the desk he was leaning against. "What's this?"

"Don't jump the gun, sugar," Garcia told him with a small smile playing across her lips before she sensed Hotch's gaze, sobering immediately. "Doctor Nichols wrote a classified study commissioned by the US Senate," Garcia commented, pressing a few buttons on the keyboard of her laptop before gesturing to the screen in front of them. "It simulated a mock anthrax attack on the DC train systems… Now, he emphasised the main line," she dragged her cursor over the highlighted red line, "The red line, as most vulnerable to an attack…"

"Forceful tunnel winds, biggest crowds, highest mortality risk." Whitworth arched an eyebrow, blowing out a loud breath before making eye contact with Hotch, gritting his teeth firmly. "Now, I deployed teams to every stop on the red line."

Siobhán crossed her arms in front of herself. "Seems too ahbviooehs, I dahn't know…" She bit her upper lip in thought, lifting an eyebrow, "I joest dahn't dink 'e's targetin' de red line."

Nodding in faint agreement, Hotch folded his arms over his chest. "I don't think he's targeting the red line either."

"But you said he adopted all of Nichols' ideas," the General rebuked as he turned to look at Hotch swiftly. "Wouldn't he want to prove this theory?"

"We also said that he chooses locations that are personal to him, ones that represent rejection," Hotch easily countered.

"What is de one place dat's rejected 'im time 'nd time again?" Siobhán gave a great sigh with a gentle shrug of her shoulders, looking between them all briefly before adding: "Fahrt Detreck."

The General scoffed, "It'd be impossible for him to get in."

Was Whitworth honestly as slow as he was depicting himself to be? Didn't he get that there were others to launch attacks at desired targets without doing the obvious?

Green eyes rolled, hard, before she was able to stop them and Siobhán sent the General a questioning look. "'e wooehldn't necessarily 'ave to even attack de Fahrt…" she replied as though it was obvious, letting out a small sigh before her eyebrow wrinkled in question, "It wooehld be sempler fahr 'im to go after de people who wahrk dere ahr ahn deir daily cahmmute."

"The closest station to the marked train is Frederick," Jayje announced, her eyes trained on the screen behind them.

Hotch ran a palm over his face, "Get on the line to Maryland transit..." he ordered Jayje, the blonde rushing off again with a quick bob of her head.

Siobhán saw the General fidget in the corner of her eye as his patience was finally met: his face had contorted into a slow, less-than-subtle, outrage. "But the study said the red line."

"The profile says he's going to Frederick." Hotch's voice was firm, breathing a visceral stubbornness to it as he stared at the older man, his hands balling into fists. "That's where I'm going, and I could really use your help... it's up to you but it's in your best interest," Hotch told him, that firm tone still in place, and he gave a look over her shoulder after a few moments. "Siobhán, Morgan… let's go."

Watching as Hotch started towards the bullpen's doors, Siobhán looked to Morgan quickly who reciprocated her startled expression as the both of them fell into an uneasy pace behind Hotch, not entirely sure what they were doing but nonetheless, thought better than to not follow when called.

"Do we-" Morgan started.

Siobhán nodded, pulling Morgan with her. "Yes…" She knew there was little point in hesitating, choosing to trust that Hotch had a plan, partial or completely non-existent, she didn't give it much thought as she spirited him through the doors behind the Unit Chief.

"Agent Hotchner!" Whitworth called from behind them, his voice carrying through the bullpen eerily.

"You don't call the shots here, General," Hotch called back, his tone entirely ingenuine as he didn't even bother to disguise it through pleasantries.

The three of them quickly barrelled into the lift as Hotch hailed it.

Shaking her head slightly, Siobhán tried to push all thoughts out of her head at the impulsiveness of Hotch's actions as he lifted her head to meet the man's gaze... did he actually have a plan? Her eyes narrowed at him, blowing out a deep breath but Hotch gave nothing away and instead, held her eyes calmly.

Sighing as he leaned against the railing, something that was becoming a more than familiar stance for Morgan, he narrowed his eyes and groaned in frustration, "What's the plan here, Hotch?"

Bursting their bubble, Siobhán finally glanced away from Hotch who was quiet for a few seconds which wasn't what either of them wanted to see - had he acted irrationally? Did he actually have a plan? The silence stretched on longer and soon, she was the one clearing her throat to speak.

Siobhán closed her eyes tightly, combing her fingers through her hair and she let her head hit the metal wall of the lift behind her as the silence withered on. "We talk 'im down," she spoke eventually, reassuring both of them as much as herself.

"You think that'll work?" Morgan offered, his umber eyes bright and contemplative for a few moments before he arched a brow at her.

The lift's door swooshed open and Hotch was briskly marching out of the lift across the parking garage with purpose, Siobhán and Morgan trailing after him as quickly as they were able.

"It's our best shot," Hotch called over his shoulder as he unlocked the SUV to access the boot, pulling out a couple of Kevlar vests and passing them to his two companions hurriedly as he took in their hesitance.

Siobhán noted the troubled look as it found its home on his face.

"Look," he breathed, pulling his own over his head after he shrugged off his suit jacket. "All I know is that we need to stop Brown before he does anything else and to do that, we have to move quickly…" He secured the vest tightly around his waist and moved towards the driver's side, urging the both of them into the vehicle as they quickly pulled their own on.

Siobhán found she couldn't disagree with him but despite him not wanting to necessarily admit it, there was something that she knew he knew would aid them easily.

"And as moehch as I 'ate it, we're goin' to need Whetwahrth's 'elp." If they were to convince Brown of Whitworth's affirmation of his cause, to reward him for all his work… it made sense for him to be there.

Morgan nodded quickly, rounding on the passenger's side and clambering into the seat. "Go on…" he called, his eyes meeting her eyes in the rear mirror as Siobhán slid into the back seat.

"De end game is Fahrt Detreck," Siobhán called over the ignition as Hotch started the engine. "It all circles back to dat so, what if we were to cahnvence 'im dat dis strain 'e's created has been recognised by Fahrt Detreck, dat dey want to emplahy… y'know…" she admitted, her voice steady and firm as she explained the ploy, her hand coiling around the handle of her door as Hotch reversed sharply, shoving the SUV into gear and accelerating.

Morgan, glancing over his shoulder at her, cleared his throat before asking: "We're going to risk everythin' on a lie?"

She knew he was worried about the liability, how open it left them for him to call their bluff... "Everythin' combs back to Fahrt Detreck," she asserted, understanding why Morgan sounded so unconvinced. "Troehst me, it's ooehr best shaht."

From where he sat in the driver's seat, Hotch spoke up: "Morgan, Siobhán's right." He fed the wheel through his hands deftly before slamming his foot down on the accelerator again, "Call Whitworth… tell him he's to meet us at the station."

Morgan leaned back to look at Siobhán, "What am I tellin' him?"

"We're goin' to make Brown believe dat Fahrt Detreck want 'im, 'e needs to be dere to validate it... 'e joehst needs to play alahng."

Pulling out his phone, Morgan nodded in understanding. "Our biggest issue here is the rush hour crowd," he remarked, shaking his head in complete dread. "If they catch wind of anythin'... we've gotta be subtle otherwise people are gonna panic, so no gas masks or anythin' otherwise they'll be a stampede."

Hotch nodded, easing his foot down onto the brake as he turned again. "Morgan, I want you and Siobhán to stay aboveground and help with the crowds," he explained coolly, not taking his eyes off of the road. "I'll go down by myself."

Siobhán balked at his words, hitting the back of his chair before folding her arms over her chest at the idiotic suggestion. "Dahn't be stupid."

Morgan rolled his eyes, huffing out a breath at the man driving beside him. "Not a chance, Hotch."

"Look, we're already a man down... if the area gets infected, we can't risk losing us as well."

"We're a team," Morgan argued resolutely, "We're gonna go down as a team."

Whilst she understood Hotch's undying need to always be the leader, to always have control over every situation... that didn't necessarily mean it was the right decision to make or it was in everyone's best interest either. She admired him for it, she wouldn't deny him that but his obstinance was to be rivalled.

She snapped her eyes to Hotch's, anger flaring at his blatant insensitivity and ludicrous nature to volunteer himself before anyone else. "Yer also 'ave a sahn to dink abooeht..." She definitely didn't want that on her conscience if the worst was to happen.

The Unit Chief fell into an uncharacteristic silence which told the other two people in the SUV everything they needed to know - Hotch hadn't considered what the fallout would be if something did go wrong.

"Siobhán's right," Morgan murmured evenly, turning to Hotch from where he sat as his hand toyed with his phone absently. "This isn't just about you, it's about all of us." His voice was firm as he delivered it, pushing for the other man to see sense.

Eventually breaking the silence after what seemed far too long of driving in silence, Hotch relented: "Fine, we do it together."

Catching Hotch's eyes in the rear mirror, Siobhán sent him a smile of encouragement and nodded her head in agreement. "Talk 'im down 'nd prevent oehnnecessary panic..."

It wouldn't be an easy task, it never was...

"Make the call, Morgan."

…

Stupid, stupid, stupid... Siobhán winced as she clambered down the highly ridged, uneven steps after Hotch as Morgan flew down them at a rapid pace, cursing herself for still wearing the most inappropriate footwear known to man in the heat of a chase.

Rushing as quickly as she could given her awkwardness, Siobhán glowered down at her feet and let out a groan. "Next time, tell me to change me shoes!" she exclaimed, out of breath as she gripped onto the handrail for support.

Throwing her a look over his shoulder, Morgan shook his head in disbelief. "Quinn, next time-"

"Dahn't!"

Sprinting down the final flight of stairs, Morgan skidded to a halt as he glanced in all directions hurriedly, ripping off his sunglasses as he tried to pinpoint Brown through the crowds with Hotch following closely behind, darting into the crowds like a springbok, passing person after person as he sought out Brown.

Straightening, Siobhán cast her gaze out ahead of her and scanned the rush hour crowds expectantly, steadily, for a moment to try and fixate on where the man would be if their hunch was right. Pausing momentarily, her eyes continued to survey the great expanse of the station in front of her-

"'e's north o' de crowds!" Siobhán announced to both men, descending the stairs with a jerk of her head in front of her before racing to join them in the claustrophobic, sticky warmth of the mobs waiting in the station as Hotch started hurrying in the direction she'd given as though his life depended on it.

"Morgan, clear the train..." Hotch called out to the other man as he reached for the firearm that was sitting in the holster on his hip, withdrawing it, and directing him toward the nearest drain as it readied to depart. "We've got him..." He glanced to his side as Siobhán came into view, "You ready?"

"Always am," she huffed out before she flanked off at the right.

"Chad Brown!" Siobhán heard Hotch bay out to the man as she continued to weave through the crowds, "Don't move!"

Pushing people out of her way, Siobhán sucked in a sharp breath as she fought to move towards where she could hear their voices, desperate to make sure she was there for when Hotch needed-

"Don't come any closer!"

Around her, the crowds began to disappear at a sporadic rate as shrieks rose up into the afternoon air, the pounding of footsteps echoing terrifyingly as people ran from the scene transpiring before them, screams and shouts bursting into the atmosphere as a small man came into view, clutching an oversized duffle bag tightly in his grasp.

"Chad, put down the bag!"

Giving an erratic shake of his head, Brown reached into the bag and withdrew a lightbulb. "I can kill everybody here!" he threatened, his fingertips going white as he gripped the glass tautly.

"And I'll kill you before you do."

Hotch poised his gun at the quivering man before him.

There it was... Spurring herself forward, Siobhán parted the last of the crowds to see Hotch with his firearm raised in Brown's direction as the other man continued to grip the lightbulb concealing the strain of Anthrax.

"No!"

It wasn't very often that Siobhán felt out of her depth - it wasn't that she didn't trust her capability to do her job or what was expected of her - it was the sheer realisation that she was putting an incredible amount of pressure onto both Hotch and Whitworth to perform.

It felt her feeling uneasy… one wrong move and who knew what would happen. The mere thought almost made her blanch in blatant disconcertion.

Siobhán pushed past Hotch, the movement startling the agent and almost had her cringing. Make it believable, Sib… "Mister Brown!" she called out with a bright smile, meeting the scrawny man's gaze instantly as she came to stop a little way in front of him, clasping her hands together in front of herself to regain some self-control. "Thank God we've managed to locate you!" She flashed him a quick smile, watching his arm falter in confusion at what was transpiring. "I work for the NBACC, I've been looking forward to meeting you."

Brown looked lost, his eyes crinkling as he stared at Siobhán before ghosting back over to Hotch. "What?"

Bringing her wrist up to her mouth, Siobhán breathed into it: "Sir, we've got him…" she alerted brightly before dropping her arm, returning her full attention back to Brown and giving a soft sigh, "General Whitworth wants to meet with you."

Rounding on her, Hotch sent her a dangerous look of warning at her appearance, "Agent Quinn, I must insist-"

Despite knowing his intentions, Siobhán squared her shoulders in defiance before brushing him off, "I'm following my orders, Agent…" Her voice was lower than she'd intended and she could easily see the surprise coating Hotch's features at the sound of it but it had to be believable.

She assumed that he hadn't considered her obstructing her true accent for the sake of making it believable if his barely veiled surprise was anything to go by.

Choosing to ignore it, she turned her gaze to Brown, "General Whitworth wants to personally meet Mister Brown," her voice was tinged with disapproval as she gestured to the man in front of her exasperatedly, "Please stand aside," Siobhán admonished, quirking an eyebrow at Hotch when their eyes met again.

"H-he wants to meet me?" Brown hedged, his voice uncertain.

Turning back to face the man lingering a few feet away from her, Siobhán gave an intent nod of her head. "Yes," she assured him, watching as Brown's face became unreadable, registering her words slowly. "Very much so."

But the other man was immovable at her side, his brow so deeply furrowed in a challenge that she almost forgot their ploy, completely unfamiliar with a hostile Hotch - real or pretend. "Agent Quinn, I'm following federal-" he attempted again to no success.

Siobhán's eyebrows furrowed low on her forehead in confusion, allowing her feigned frustration to become obvious as she turned to blow out a sigh in Hotch's direction. "I'm following orders on behalf of Fort Detrick, Agent. Stand down," she demanded softly, raising her brows to test him.

A blaring resonance called out from behind them, "Weapons down!"

General Whitworth marched forward, his shoulder barging Hotch's which was enough to make the dark-haired agent bristle in annoyance as he sent a glower the other man's way.

"General, what are you doing?" he called after him, feigning concern.

The General didn't spare him a glance as he waved him off, "Call your director, Agent," he replied curtly, coming to stand beside where Siobhán lingered. "A direct order from the President… the US army is taking this man into custody as Agent Quinn has already explained."

"General, I'm sorry but the army has no authority here."

Finally looking over at Hotch, the General gave a soft huff: "We do now," he argued lightly, "He helped create this strain and whether you accept it or not, he's the only one who can show us how it was made."

But Hotch, despite the General's rebukes, persisted. "Sir, he is a danger to the country."

"Agent Hotchner," Siobhán called firmly, making the man pause as his grip tightened around his firearm. "Stand down."

"He is an asset to this country!" the General bellowed from beside her, "And by Presidential order, I'm taking him in…" He slowly turned away from where Hotch stood and looked over at Brown, giving him an acknowledging nod of the head. "Sir, please come with me…"

Brown hesitated.

Siobhán saw his eyes flit between herself and the General, then Hotch and the General. "Where?" he questioned, urged, after a few moments.

The General let out a humourless laugh, "Fort Detrick, Mister Brown."

The man blinked in disbelief, his eyes widening in evident surprise at the General's words. "Y-you want me to go to Fort Detrick?"

"We need you, sir, please."

After what seemed an eternity, Brown stepped forward slowly. "I helped create this," Brown emphasised, shaking the bag in his grasp almost menacingly as if to reinforce his words to them but the only thing Siobhán was certain it succeeded in was making her feel more on edge. "You have to name it after me!"

Nodding, the General reached out towards him with an open palm, "Of course, standard practice," Whitworth affirmed with a tense look befalling his face, his eyes trained on the bag Brown held. "Now, hand me the bag so we can go on our way…"

Slowly but surely, Brown edged toward the General and handed him the bag cautiously, looking up at him with a small smile.

Letting out a faint sigh of relief, the General gradually turned towards Siobhán with the intention to hand the bag to her before having Brown restrained.

As soon as the General set the bag's handles into her waiting palm, he turned back to look at Brown in uncertainty. "Are there any other samples present?" he pressed, caution sweeping into his voice as he remained inches from Brown.

After a couple of seconds, Brown shook his head which was all the confirmation they needed before the General gestured and Hotch brought his wrist up to his mouth to speak into it quietly.

From around them, Siobhán observed as their SWAT teams moved into the circle Brown easily enough although it seemed as though the man was paying little attention to what was actually going on, obviously thinking they were there to protect him.

"You understand why I had to show everybody how vulnerable we are and-"

He was cut off as a gloved hand forcefully turned him around to secure a metal cuff around his wrist before pulling the other one into the other free one to secure him tightly, the mere action sending Brown into a fit of outrage. "What are you doing?!" Brown shrieked out, thrashing in the cuffs.

Siobhán sighed, stepping forward slightly. "Dahn't make dis any 'arder, Chad," she called out, more in warning than anything else, as the SWAT team pushed him past in a shove; his head snapped in her direction at the immediate accent change, his mouth contorting in silent fury.

"Take him away," the General dismissed gruffly, not sparing Brown another look as he turned away from him.

"General!" Siobhán winced at the pitch his voice rose to, willingly allowing one of the team to take the duffle bag from her as they moved to escort him away. "General! I can help recreate this for you!"

Brown's calls continued to echo in the distance the further he was dragged away, their armed cavalry dissipating around them as Siobhán looked over her shoulder to see Hotch moving closer to them with a relieved look settling across his brow.

"So," the General bit out, crossing his arms in a friendly challenge. "How did I do?"

Hotch, sensing the immediate reluctance, gave a nod in affirmation. "You were effective," he complimented softly, holding out his hand for the other man to shake.

Whitworth grasped his palm in acceptance, "I can't believe it worked."

"It's as we said," Hotch dropped his hand, "The profile said he needed validation, especially by someone from Fort Detrick," he explained simply, a soft smugness lacing his words which has Siobhán smiling in amusement, knowing that she would've been gloating had she been Hotch.

"Well, I'll give credit where it's due," Whitworth acknowledged with a nod of his head, looking to Siobhán as well at that moment before meeting Hotch's gaze again. "I'm glad I listened to you." With that, the General saluted and withdrew from the pair of them.

Watching the man retreat, Siobhán rubbed a hand across her brow and let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding before she glanced around to meet Hotch's gaze, who was standing with a bemused expression growing across his face.

Siobhán tilted her head in question but it was Hotch who asked: "What was that?" he asked her, moving closer and Siobhán thought she heard a slightly playful tone to his voice.

Incredulous, she arched an eyebrow, "What was what?" Siobhán echoed, perplexed as she held his gaze firmly.

"That accent," Hotch bit out in a chuckle.

She rolled her eyes and gave a light scoff, "I can perfahrm when I 'ave to." Siobhán bantered back, a small, satisfied smile playing on her mouth, "Maybe I chahse de wrahng career…" she acknowledged playfully, finally able to take the breath that she needed.

Despite herself, she couldn't stop her smile from widening when Hotch smirked back at her. "How long do we have you for again?"

---

2009. BAU BULLPEN, QUANTICO, VA

EMILY PRENTISS

...

"So…" David Rossi incensed (almost in a boom), his voice tinged with welcomed respite as Emily found herself gazing up from where she had settled quite comfortably into her desk chair, savouring in its embrace as she arched her back to stretch.

Rossi was in a significantly better mood as he approached with two mugs clasped in his hands, skillfully maneuvering his hold on hers to pass it over. "We, uh, got our bullpen back."

With General Whitworth now out of the way, it wasn't difficult to see that the senior agent was at a familiar ease again which would explain his guarded and oddly reticent behaviour.

Emily couldn't help but wonder what had happened between the pair of them to cause such a … disliking.

Finally re-centering her gaze on what he held out to her in offering, she eagerly accepted the mug of coffee with its fumes rushing up her nose, watching as he hovered near her. "Yeah…" Emily concurred quietly, bringing the rim of the mug to her lips.

"Look, I'm, uh..." He set his drink down firmly on her desk with a furrowed brow, a renewed purpose lurking in the depth of his gaze. "I'm sorry about Emily-ing you back at that house."

Ah… She winced at the contrite chime to his voice, knowing that whilst he had been cagey around Whitworth, she had (knowingly) been in an equally foul mood herself. And knowing Rossi, she desperately didn't want to talk about it.

"No." She bit her lip in uncertainty, hesitating a moment before adding: "It's alright."

Rossi, much to her frustration, looked completely unconvinced, "Is it?" he pressed, inclining his head softly, his tone somewhat ambivalent.

No matter what he thought, she wasn't upset about that.

"Hey, I toed the company line, didn't I?"

He scoffed and shook his head with a playful smile teasing across his lips as he regarded her. "Do you honestly think people would be better off knowing about everything we've prevented since nine-eleven? Do you reckon it'd make them feel safer or more vulnerable?"

She wasn't stupid - she didn't need to have this obvious discussion of morals with him to know that keeping the public in the dark was the right thing to do. She knew it was the right thing to do.

"You did the right thing," Rossi assured.

Meeting Rossi's gaze, Emily let herself give him a playful nod of her head, unable to bring herself to roll her eyes as she normally would. "Yeah, I know that... I just, I know it wouldn't have helped anything if that woman knew what was happening across the street from her and her kids..." She shook her head, trailing off in her uncertainty, knowing that despite her morales to be honest she knew that choosing to conceal the true nature of their visit was the right thing to do. "I lied because it was my job, and I wanted to protect her."

"So what's eating you, then?" Rossi snarked at her with a scrutinizing glance and she was immediately aware that he was humouring her whilst, maybe, curious enough to really ask.

"Uh... what's eating me?" Emily intoned, looking up at the senior agent through her lashes before she let out a low sigh - there was no way she was going to be discussing anything other than the case with Rossi tonight. "Am I naive to wish that lying is never the right thing to do? With this job..." the brunette sighed when she saw the look he was giving her, "Yeah… well, uh… some- sometimes, our job sucks."

Rossi gave a gentle nod of his head but remained quiet, reaching for his mug to take a mouthful, arching his brows for her to carry on.

"And yet, next time I probably won't hesitate to lie again…" Emily commented, in a decidedly unapologetic tone.

"Well, I don't know about you… but I've got a lot of things to take with me to the grave…" he murmured quietly sitting on the arm of her chair with a sigh.

Frowning, Emily moved to look over at the older man hovering next to her: "Ross-"

But she was soon cut off.

"So!" Rossi trumpeted, jolting Emily (much to her lingering annoyance) as he wheeled around with his attention directed to someone opposite her desk as a broad smile quickly weaved across his face. When Emily finally allowed herself to follow his gaze, she grimaced. "Quinn, what's the verdict? You sticking around?"

The horrifically familiar flaming auburn tresses flashed in front of her as Siobhán's almond-shaped green orbs settled on the pair of them, her fossil plaid blazer pulled over her shoulders with a bemused smile settling across her full lips when she came to pause a few feet away.

Tilting her head, Emily watched the woman move to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and there was a slight glint that had Emily squinting, wanting to know what it was but then she was moving again.

Siobhán only chuckled lowly, pulling Emily out of her thoughts. "I'll let you know wance I've made a deal wit dat devil..." she bit out in a laugh before offering an exaggeratedly rolling her eyes, sobering almost immediately. "I've joehst comb frahm de 'ahspital... Reid's ahn de mend."

Oh... Emily gulped. She had completely forgotten about Reid's exposure and the guilt that suddenly riffled through her made her feel even worse. How had she completely forgotten about someone she had worked with for over two years and yet this woman, this unknown entity, had thought to go and see their colleague, their friend... and she hadn't? What a lousy friend you are, Prentiss...

"We knew he'd-"

"Siobhán!"

The knowing look she saw Rossi give Siobhán was enough to immediately have the redhead's hackles raised as Emily watched her turn on her heel to see Strauss beckoning her hastily to Hotch's office from where she lingered on the catwalk.

Rossi chuckled lowly, "Good luck with that."

Emily didn't say anything, merely watching as Siobhán only shot Rossi a quick smile through tight lips that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Danks," she bit out, her mouth contorting into a grimace which Emily decided was a perfectly normal reaction to being forced into a room with Erin Strauss. "G'night, goehys."

Nodding, Rossi brought his mug up to his lips. "See you around, kiddo," he hummed as the redhead wandered away from the pair of them slowly, Emily's eyes not leaving her as her heels faintly echoed against the floor.

"Siobhán!" Emily's head whipped around at the sound of Jayje's voice as the small blonde surged forward, following after the redhead who paused immediately at the sound of her name, obviously surprised (much like Emily). "Wait up!" she added eagerly, jogging after her as Siobhán stopped, a soft smile tugging across her face.

Observing the pair, Emily's eyes narrowed at the mute exchange that lasted mere seconds before she found she couldn't deny the pit of dread that filled her stomach.

Jayje reached out suddenly and wrapped her arms around Siobhán, pulling the taller woman toward her chest and smiling warmly as she embraced her.

Even Jayje had warmed to her… Christ, what was she to do? It was fairly obvious that Siobhán would be staying if Strauss got her way (and it was rare that she didn't) and that faced Emily with an entirely new predicament… Did she continue in her hostility towards the woman or did she admit defeat?

What she couldn't pinpoint was why something felt off with Siobhán, pounding in her mind every time she glanced the redhead's way... what was it?

Emily stared, unable to help herself, as the blonde pulled away from Siobhán and moved to leave. Jayje hadn't mentioned anything to her about Siobhán or what she thought of her at that matter which was weird. Normally, Jayje would have told Emily her opinion of people - particularly potential colleagues but also because they told each other almost everything.

She waited until Siobhán and Jayje were both out of earshot before she turned to Rossi, and before she could really comprehend what she was thinking, words were flying past her lips to meet the ears of Rossi.

"Can I ask you something?" The words left her mouth quickly before she could really give them much thought.

Rossi turned back to Emily, tilting his head up slightly so he was able to look her in the eye, his own narrowing at her suspiciously. "Go for it, kitten." She didn't miss the suspicious timbre of his voice as he came to lean against the desk closest to hers.

The brunette sighed, her eyes naturally trailing in the direction of the woman who swept up her thoughts again as she met Strauss, the older woman lingering just outside of Hotch's office. Slowly, Emily allowed herself to look away to eventually meet Rossi's gaze firmly, barely masking her startlement. "What do you think of Quinn?"

Rossi stared at her (looking like what she thought was... stunned?), for a few moments before he let out a disbelieving snort of laughter. "Well, I think I know what you think of her," he murmured in a playful counter, mirth evident in his tone.

Rolling her eyes at him, Emily found herself groaning and rubbing her brow in blatant frustration. "Come on, Rossi..."

"Oh, now it makes sense…" Rossi sighed, his hand coming up to scratch his chin before his mocha eyes widened at an alarmingly fast pace as his thoughts raced through his mind which was, in turn, enough to have Emily balking in dismay at whatever he was going to say next. "This is why you've been in a mood and I thought it was the case!" he bit out in a laugh.

Bad mood? She blinked. Is that what they honestly thought? Emily sighed, slumping back into her chair and letting her head roll to lean against the back of her chair as she found herself mulling over his words.

She hadn't thought the case had been any different like any normal one they got or that it had put her in a bad mood either, unless... Well, Morgan had been quite observant... She tilted her head and easily caught Rossi's rueful smile, clenching her jaw, and realised that, of course, he would put it down to Siobhán.

Emily scoffed.

Opening her mouth to speak, Emily groaned as no word words came out. In her frustration, she closed it and sucked in a deep breath, and tried again. "Don't," she interrupted with another easy roll of her eyes when she saw the teasing look on Rossi's face. "I haven't been in a mood," she all but insisted.

Rossi nodded idly, his dubious expression growing. "Well, you keep telling yourself that, kitten..." He drew his hand up into his hair before blowing out a deep sigh and shaking his head, "Humour me, then... how has she rubbed you up the wrong way? Or is it because Hotch champions her?"

Emily found she disdained the daring tone of his voice, borderline teasing and she refused to look at him, knowing fully well that he wore that smug expression that would usually have her chuckling.

She just couldn't - she refused to believe that Hotch, Aaron Hotchner of all people, championed someone he had neglected to mention to any of them. It made no sense at all!

Why couldn't Rossi see that?

Emily bristled when she saw that irking expression of Rossi's.

She didn't bother to try and stop her eyebrows from drawing together in confusion, she then threw in a roll of her eyes for good measure. "You can't champion someone you barely know," Emily remarked, glancing back over her shoulder to see Strauss practically pushing the redhead into the office with a less-than-impressed-looking Hotch on their heels.

When she eventually looked back around, Rossi gave a slight shake of his head, seemingly baffled in his own right by what she had said (or at least, that was what she guessed). "Except, they don't just barely know one another, Emily."

They don't just barely know each other? Emily repeated in her mind with a scowl, not liking Rossi's loaded responses that made her feel like he wanted her to re-evaluate her opinion or at least feel bad for having the apparent wrong opinion.

"I-" she cut herself off with a huffed-out sigh and threw Rossi an obviously annoyed look, eyebrows crinkling in vexation. "It's- you, you just can't." Emily shook her head with a dismissive shrug of her shoulders, giving a scornful wave of her hand in the air. "You can't..." she bit out in a whisper.

Rossi nodded slightly, "Maybe that's true and Hotch is carrying a torch for her, I don't know but he does admire her."

The words felt like a piercing blow to her stomach and it had Emily sucking in another sharp, deep breath to try and soothe it. "What is she twenty? She looks like she should still be in school," she shot back in a challenge with an arched eyebrow incredulously, a disbelieving grimace settling across her face.

Siobhán most definitely didn't look twenty. It was a petty jibe that made her feel better for all of two seconds before she realised how petulant it made her sound.

Rossi's eyebrows lifted as he hmm'd softly, "Do you know what Siobhán did before?" he countered, his brow furrowed in concern as he chose to maturely ignore her bitterness.

"No." Emily shook her head, she's just swanned in here like she owns the place… "Why would I?" she added in a grumble. Why would I care? She found herself really wanting to ask.

The laugh he let out made her cringe.

"Well," Rossi gave her a small smile, folding his arms neatly across his chest. "She was a hotshot for MI6 for some time not that she'll ever be able to say what those clandestine operations were, then she ran the NCB desk for Europe in Lyon as its interim head before she went back to criminal operations in the field for Interpol."

Emily bit her upper lip so hard that she was adamant she could taste the coppery tang of blood. WHAT?! Emily couldn't suppress her sudden fury as it flurried through her. She couldn't begin to comprehend how on Earth this woman, whom they barely knew, had accumulated such a successful career in such a short time.

It made no sense.

Dark eyes narrowed in Rossi's direction almost immediately, "How in the hell?" Emily demanded, surprising herself at the unquenched anger in her tone. Where had that come from?

"She's worked hard to get to where she is," Rossi reasoned tentatively, offering a small shrug of his shoulders as he reclined in his chair, stroking his goatee absently.

Closing her eyes, shaking her head slightly. "See, even that doesn't make sense... how did she even get that job?"

She had worked for Interpol and she'd be damned if someone so... nonchalant would have been graced with job after job like Siobhán for the way she conducted herself, for how little she tried and for-

"Okay," he appeased, putting his hands up in mock defense. "I'm not a psychic."

Emily couldn't stop herself from blowing out a long breath before she began to rant, "This is crazy... had she even completed the training required to be appointed to this unit?" She huffed in frustration, her eyes tightening in her anger. "Rossi, you know how competitive it is to get into a special unit, and Strauss has just opened the door for her?"

She lifted an eyebrow at him, daring him to disagree with her on the matter despite hating how reedy her voice sounded the more she persisted to argue with him.

Rossi shook his head and shot her a disapproving look, "I really don't know what you want me to say, Emily." He was avoiding the question.

"And she's Irish," she added quickly. Petty...

Rossi shook his head, lifting his bushy eyebrows in a look that made him seem stern when her pettiness reached his ears. "As long as she holds citizenship…" he challenged, bringing his arms up to cross them over his chest.

Shaking her hair back, she released a quiet hum, and she scowled. "Look, you've been in the game a long time-"

"Gee, thanks," Rossi bit out in a gruff chuckle.

Blowing out a small sigh, she shook her head as the small scowl died away from her lips, "I didn't mean it like that - what I'm saying is I trust your judgment, Rossi." Emily said, wholly unable to disguise the hope in her voice as though he was just going to magically change his mind. "I just want to know your thoughts on her."

"You might implode." he lifted his eyebrows playfully, wiggling them.

"Rossi…"

Emily took the opportunity then to hold back a groan, her teeth digging into her bottom lip when she saw him fix her with a pointed look, knowing that whatever she was about to hear wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"Do you really want me to be honest?" Rossi ventured with faux sympathy lacing his words and despite herself, despite not really wanting to know, Emily found herself nodding perhaps a bit too willingly. "I think she could be great for this team and you know it, too… that's why you're on edge."

Emily quickly shook her head, "I'm not on edge," she let out slowly, her throat burning with the falseness of her words as she did everything in her power to not glance in the direction of Hotch's office to prove his point.

The look he was giving her was incredulous, "You do know you work with profilers, right?" He looked at Emily with his suddenly critical eyes narrowing in thought. "You've been picking your nails again, you've been sullen with Morgan and me, you're obviously frustra-"

Emily rolled her eyes with a scoff, "I get it."

"So..." Rossi ascertained, looking very seriously at Emily.

Her shoulders slumped slightly in defeat now, she took in a deep breath as she closed her eyes. "So what?" she found herself rebuking in a counter, the words catching in her throat.

"It would be stupid for Siobhán to say no," Rossi offered softly before letting his shoulders sag, turning to face her fully. "Look, I know how you're feeling and I get it, I do…" He paused, clearly exasperated as he rubbed a hand over his brow. "Siobhán is very… she's a maverick," Rossi added on with a bob of his head, dropping his hand.

Emily groaned, her frustration coming swiftly before she was able to stop it, "Rossi-"

"We could do with a maverick."

She looked at him dumbly. "We don't need Top Gun rejects."

The look in Rossi's eyes was making her incredibly uneasy.

"So what if she rides a motorcycle? She owns six." Rossi stared at her for a long moment before he realised that no matter how much he tried to humanise Siobhán, Emily would be unmoved. "You collect Vonnegut first editions... I think I'm addicted to video gaming... worrying, I know," he commented with a shake of his head. "The point is Emily," he continued with a deep sigh, "We all have different vices but that doesn't make us bad people and we all have successes in life that make us good at what we do."

There was a momentary pause.

"Do you feel threatened by her?"

Blowing out her breath through her teeth, "God, no!"

He stared at her, flabbergasted, for a few moments before he threw his hands in the air, exasperated, "Then stop," Rossi insisted, clearly agitated with her.

"She's a good fit." Rossi's voice broke into her internal monologue and she nearly jumped out of her seat, letting out a low swear as he settled beside her, passing her a drink. "You're profiling her right now." He chuckled, nudging at her arm with his elbow, "You don't need to… she's a great fit with the team and she proved herself with this case, I mean, just look at her."

Emily rolled her eyes, though hesitating as she looked back to Rossi, "There's something off about her."

"Per l'amor di Dio!" A short, disbelieving laugh cut through the air as it rose from Rossi's throat, shaking his head madly. "She's allowed to befriend the team but that doesn't devalue you being on this team," he reasoned and for a second, she felt she was admonished for being honest. "You're allowed to feel threatened, it's normal... why don't you just try to get to know her?"

Try to get to know her? Emily repeated cautiously, eyeing him for a long moment. She didn't want to try to get to know her, she didn't want to give her any more of her time than necessary - everyone else could do that just fine.

"Be honest with me, why don't you like her?" Rossi gave in, his tone had grown impatient.

Emily shrugged both of her shoulders, before she slid her hands into her lap as she fidgeted, having wondered when he would ask that question again. "Something just doesn't sit right with me." Emily closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in through her nose, "I don't know what it is..."

Rossi quirked an eyebrow in challenge, tilting his head at her and she knew instantly what he was thinking of that it had her cringing before he even said it. "You lot thought the same about me when I came back."

Wincing at his commentary, Emily threw her head back and let out a groan. Would he ever let that go? It had been well over a year since Rossi had come out of retirement and to be fair to them, he had been acting weird which made it very hard to trust him initially but they had come around to him in time but with Siobhán it would be different... (she could sense it).

Emily's face softened then, a quick smile lighting up her features. "Yeah, but-

"How is that different?" Rossi couldn't help but smile, shaking his head slightly as his eyes twinkled. "Get to know Siobhán..." He quirked an eyebrow at her and she wasn't sure if it was in warning or because he knew something that she didn't. "Some advice, tone down the militant vibe."

Dark eyebrows rose, her hackles vibrating at Rossi's words. "Militant vibe?" she asked numbly, feeling uncertain then, and a little unsettled. Did anyone else think that?

"You heard me."

---

Chapter III Preview:

Across the Atlantic, another Quinn sibling is faced with his own dilemma.