CHAPTER 114

AND ALL THAT JAZZ...

"Thank you for the attention. As always – it was fun to be here with all of you, young fellas. And yeah, that's it. I'll see you next week for some more amazingly interesting stories on human bones and ancestry, wohoo." Clara said absolutely sarcastically, at the end of her theoretical class on Monday evening.

She had figured that quite a bunch of people were interested in what she had to say, but she also knew that her class was a dumb one. She had no idea how she had gotten herself into forensic anthropology, all these years ago, but she was damn good at it and if the Bureau wanted her to teach, she'd be glad to share her expertise with others.

Also, she was by far, the coolest teacher they had. She was so relatable and so free-spirited, that people naturally felt drawn to her and thus, more inclined to pay attention in class. And she threw in a lot of international travel stuff, which turned this into half anthropology, half 'what the IRT does' kind of a class and to many of the Trainees this was super entertaining.

"You know you're an exact copy of that woman, don't you?" Bryan raised an eyebrow, coming to that conclusion after Clara Seger's class finished.

"Pff, we are nothing alike!" Angie said defensively.

"Really? The hair? The height? The body build? The language you both use? Your weird sense of humor? The way you both take the piss out of yourselves when you speak? The way you both know how to entertain a crowd? The only visible difference is your eye color. What, do you also share the same DNA?" Bryan laughed.

"No, we do not!" Angie hissed at him, now even more defensively. Something about his words made her tick, and not in a good way.

"Okay, relax." He sighed. Sometimes Angie could get pissed off way too easily.

"Hunter, a word?" Clara called out for her when everyone was leaving the auditorium.

"Does everyone here want to have a damn word with Trainee Hunter today!?" Angie muttered to herself unhappily, as she walked over to Clara's desk, at the podium.

First, it had been Dan and his pathetic attempt to make her stay at the Academy. Had she not promised it to Prentiss already, his words would not have mattered to her, at all.

And now this IRS woman wanted to talk.

"What?" Angie said grumpily once she was in front of her.

"Well, hello to you too…" Clara raised an eyebrow. When did Angela become rude?

"I'm not in the mood for…whatever you'll say next. So, just say it and let me be."

"I wanted to talk to you about a case I'd like to request you to assist on, next week, with my team." Clara said hesitantly.

"Can't. I'm busy next week." Angie was not in a good mood, at all.

"Oh, what are you doing next week?" Of course she'd be busy, she was in the FBI Academy. But something about the way she said it made Clara wonder what she really meant.

"Probably waiting tables at Hooters or dancing on a pole in Vegas." Angie shrugged.

She hadn't really thought it through. Yes, she could go to Europe, where she did indeed, have a job waiting for her. But she didn't have the money to travel, so sadly she'd have to work locally until she had enough cash for an international flight. Living life, one day at a time, was not something new to Angela. She had done it, all day, every day, since the age of eight. It didn't really scare her. She also had one more option, but she knew the Bureau would be following her every move, so it was a safe bet to say that she wasn't going to play those cards and end up in jail, even if it was the easier option.

"I'm glad to know you're way too prude to do either of those things." Clara smirked and it drove Angela absolutely nuts.

"Oh, you think you know me so well, don't you?" She raised her voice a little bit.

"Shhh!" Clara urged her. "Not here."

"Don't you shush me. I'm not a child anymore!" Angie stomped her left foot on the floor.

"You sure about that?" Clara raised an eyebrow at her little scene.

"Come on, I know I'm the last class on your schedule today. How about you spend the night at my place, huh? I can cook you something nice and we can watch TV, sounds good?" Clara suggested with a soft smile. She was stunningly beautiful but more so when she smiled. Quite like Angela.

"Your cooking cannot compare!" Angie looked away. Nobody's cooking could ever compare to what she had missed, all these years.

"And I despise TV and movies and everything fake. Just like your little game here. So, go home and leave me alone, okay?" She added.

"Wow, you really are acting up…" Clara frowned.

She hadn't expected the bubbly girl Angela to act this way. And Angie wasn't acting out with anyone else these days. Somehow, with Clara, her inner daemons came out and she could not help her reactions, nor control the words that were coming out of her mouth. She felt comfortable enough to be herself, with Clara. And Angie's real self was now a raging teenager, a very rebellious, unhappy one, at that.

"Stop talking before you say something even more stupid. Come on, you're coming home with me." Clara extended her hand and Angie let it just sit in the air. She refused to hold it.

"I don't need you." Angie said, turning to look away.

"I know." Clara kept on smiling. Oh, Angela was so damn transparent, with her little act, her childish tantrum and her inability to control her emotions.

"But I'm what you have tonight, so…take it or leave it." Clara's hand was still in the air. She would not retrieve it, not until she felt Angie's hand against it.

Angie faced her for just a second. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Plus, Monday was done and she only had to survive four more days at the Academy before she'd be free of it all and she'd never have to see those people, ever again.

Realizing that, her chin quivered. Lately, it had been her tell. She could not help the way her body reacted to her inner emotions these days. It was always her damned chin that gave it all out, no matter how good her poker face was.

Hesitantly and very slowly, she put her hand against Clara's and let Clara drag her out of the auditorium and downstairs, to the parking lot.

The drive to her home was silent. Clara stopped by a Walmart and asked if Angie wanted to stay in the car.

She had opted for some fresh air. Plus, she quite enjoyed big American grocery stores. She hadn't seen such huge ones back in Europe.

While Clara searched for actual food, Angie grabbed a cart and filled it with sweet treats and other snacks that would probably last her a year.

"Wow, not what I meant when I told you to go find something for dessert…" Clara's jaw dropped when she inevitably bumped into Angie along the aisles.

"Plus, I'm not paying for all that junk food." Clara frowned.

"You better, or I'll gladly tell everyone how naughty you were that night in Cuba, with that guy…what was his name again? Oh, that's right – you don't even know." Angie smirked, going back to her manipulative ways.

Clara laughed out loud. Her colleague Mae was up to speed about it, since the morning after it had happened. Angie had no idea how much FBI people loved to discuss their love escapades with one another. Her boss Jack Garrett, also knew about it.

But Clara had to play her cards right. She had to let Angie have her win, so Clara could have her win later, that evening.

"Oh, no! Ok, I'm paying!" Clara faked fear and, even though Angie knew she was being played, she still played along and took that as a victory.

"Can I also get some crisps?" Angie asked, as they walked down that aisle, towards the cashiers.

"Some what?" Clara asked a dumb question, but the linguist in her quickly realized that 'crisps' was the British word for chips, which was what they were surrounded by at that moment.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. But not more than ten packs, please!" She felt the need to put a limit to it and, given how many sweets Angela had grabbed earlier, she decided that ten packs of chips was an okay bargain.

"Ohh, my daughter also loves chips. I have to always tell her not to buy too many." Some random woman walked by them and felt the need to comment out loud.

"Would people just stop assuming whose freaking daughter I am!? It's getting old. And it's annoying as Hell!" Angie rolled her eyes and walked away, holding just two packs of chips. Sadly, this was all she managed to lay her hands on before that woman had decided to make small talk.

"How did that make you feel?" Clara asked carefully, when she found Angie by the cashiers, just seconds later.

"What, you a shrink now, too?" Angie hissed.

"No, but I am a very good listener and I am someone who cares about you. A lot, actually…" Clara's hand brushed against Angie's cheek, but she shrieked away instantly. She wanted none of her caresses and attention.

To make up for it, Clara was now holding three more packs of chips in her hands, on top of the two full carts – one with healthy, good food, and the other one full with chocolate and snacks.

Once they started to mark it all up on the machine, Clara realized they needed more shopping bags. Just Angie's stuff amounted to four bags, full of stuff. The bags of chips were quite voluminous, so they made everything seem much more than what it actually was.

"I'll drop these off at your dorm room tomorrow morning, on my way to work. And, if you'd like to stay the night at my house, I'll drop you off in the morning as well." She offered genuinely.

"I have a place to sleep, thanks." Angie could not help being defensive.

She hated it. She disliked acting out, but she could not help it. Each remark made her feel a tiny little better and, given what she was going through, she was desperate to feel better.

"And don't you dare steal my treats! I know exactly what I chose and if so much as a chocolate bar is missing – oh, especially a chocolate bar, I'm suing you!" She said, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.

And Clara knew why Angela was acting this way. She wasn't dumb and neither was Angela. They both knew that she needed to let it all out. And she could not do that during class, or anywhere near the Academy. She also did not have any trusted people to do that with, so Clara had sacrificed herself, to be Angela's emotional punching bag for the night. And she'd do anything, just to make Angela burst, to make her let it out and work it all out. She'd give her space if she wanted to do so, on her own terms, and she'd be by her side, if she needed someone to guide her.

"It shouldn't be you…" Angie whispered, coming to the realization that Clara was doing all of this, for her.

"You don't seem to think you have anyone else." Clara said softly, now placing the shopping bags in the trunk of her car.

"But you don't deserve my attitude…You've always been nice to me…" Angie's eyes were now much softer.

Even when she needed to act out, she could not keep up with it for more than a few minutes before she'd turn back into the wonderful person, with that big heart that never wanted to hurt anyone around her.

"Sweetheart, I once kept stuff in and then when I finally exploded, I did so with a freaking hammer in my hand, destroying my boss' car until it wasn't even good enough for scrap anymore." Clara laughed out loud.

"Did he ever find out?" Angie asked curiously. She could simply not imagine that cute and put together Agent, destroying a car with a hammer.

"Of course he did. He was at the parking lot, with our entire team, watching me do so. And he let me do it. He did not say a word. He sat there and he let me hit it, again and again. He gave me all the time I needed, in order to get it all out of my system, because if I hadn't done it then and there, I would have done it a day later, maybe a week later, or a month later, on the field, compromising my safety and possibly the lives of my colleagues as well, including Garrett's. So, he sacrificed a car, but he did it for me. God bless his soul, this man has closed his eyes more than once, when it comes to me and my wild nature…" Clara finally laughed. It was true, her boss had always been on her side. She was lucky to have him in her life.

"Wait, you destroyed Garrett's car!?" Angie gasped.

When Clara had mentioned a boss, Angie had figured she meant a job way before the FBI.

"I sure did. And to this day, he keeps reminding me how proud he is of me, for doing so. A car is worth money. A life is worth so much more. And, at that time in my life, I needed to pour my anger out on something. And I like to do it with things. But something is telling me you like to do that, with people…"

Angie bit her bottom lip. It was true, she always poured her anger out on people, not things.

"Let me be there for you tonight. Say whatever you want. I won't be offended." Clara said softly, urging Angie to get in the car once they were done placing the stuff in the trunk.

"But I turn into a brat when I unload my emotional baggage and I don't want to hurt you with any dumb thing I might say…"

"Oh, my God! Please try to make me love and adore you more than this? I dare you! Because, damn it, girl…you are the most sweet and thoughtful girl on the planet. Damn it! How can you always think of other people's feelings when you're literally going through Hell yourself!?" Clara had always wondered that about Angela. She'd always put other people's feelings first, if those were people she knew and cared about. It was her brand. She would apologize for the smallest inconvenience and she'd make sure the other person knew in advance that she was sorry for something she hasn't even done yet, or might not even end up doing.

"Why do you care about me? I'm literally nobody to you…" Angie asked her a question that has been on her mind for the longest time.

"Because you're an amazing kid, with a troubled past, but an amazing future and an amazing heart. And you can play dumb all you want, you can call yourself whatever name you wish, but it won't change how special you are and how much you deserve to be loved, sweetheart." Clara was about to back out of the parking space when she stopped and attempted something one more time.

Her hand reached for Angie's cheek and, this time, the girl did not move away.

"And you're most certainly not a nobody to me. You're family. You'll always be family to me, whether you want to admit it or not. And I love you, so much…" Clara continued, and it was now her chin that was quivering. She had the same tell, as Angie.

"Yeah, people have been trying to make me open up and talk about my feelings and the 'truth' and stuff…" Angie said, making air quotes around the word truth.

"I believe those are some very smart people, Angela. You should listen to them. There is no doubt in my mind that they care about you, a lot, and the advice they gave you would only serve to help you out."

"But I don't need help. I'm fine!" Angie said, a bit too defensively.

She analyzed her own behavior and came to the conclusion that she was being a brat. Again.

"Fine. I may not be as fine as I make believe. But I also don't want to talk about my feelings and whatnot. It makes me feel weird. Like, as if I'm powerless." She whispered.

"And you love being in charge, don't you, you little firecracker?" Clara chuckled. "But you can't control everything in life. And that's okay, because sometimes it's fun to see what life will hit you with, when you least expect it to."

"That is a terrifying concept!" Angie gasped one more time.

She was a complete control freak. An overachiever. A leader. She would be damned if she let anyone or anything take the lead, especially when it concerned her life. No way. She hated surprises and she would be happy if she never received any, for the rest of her life.

"God, you two are the same damn person, I swear!" Clara shook her head, thinking how much Angela acted and sounded like someone else she knew, someone she chose not to mention the name of.

"Can you make me anything with potatoes?" Angie changed the topic. She was done with the previous one.

"Yeah, sure. I know this amazing recipe. Trust me, you'll like it." Clara smiled, playing along, because with Angela one had to thread extremely carefully.

"I've always trusted you, Clarsie." Angie smiled and it was obvious she did not mean the damn potatoes.

Clara could not help but grin, hearing Angela call her that. It was the cutest, most innocently childish derivative of her full name, that on could ever come up with.

Twenty-five minutes later they were pulling up in front of Clara's apartment building.

"Oh, good. You don't live in a house. I'm staying over then." Angie stated.

"Why wouldn't you stay if I lived in a house?" Clara found that to be weird.

"I don't sleep anywhere lesser than the third, even fourth floor, especially if it has windows." Angie stated.

"Sorry to break it to you, but most people's homes in America are one, maximum two-floor houses…with windows." Clara ended off, using a spooky voice in a very dramatic manner.

"I find that to be terrifying!" Angie cringed. It sounded worse than prison and worse than a world without pizza in it.

"You are one weird kid." Clara sighed, searching for her home keys in her oversized bag.

"I'm not a kid! Why does everyone keep calling me that?" Angie frowned. It was extremely hard to act grown up when everyone kept belittling her.

"Because you chose a career with people whose average age is about fifty, my dear. So, in their eyes, you'll always be a kid. In some people's eyes, you'll always be a kid." Clara corrected herself in the end of her statement.

"Well, I don't have to worry about that in four days." Angie smirked.

"What's in four days?" Clara's curiosity made her almost sprint to her floor and open the door quickly.

"Friday. Finally!" Angie rolled her eyes.

"And what's happening on Friday?" Clara kept on pushing, because so far she knew that she would never get a straightforward answer from this girl until she had pushed enough.

"Freedom." Angie replied shortly before she walked in Clara's apartment.

Clara was a bit of a Barbie doll. She was always put together, her hair was neat and she had some solid cool choice of lipstick, each time Angela had seen her. So, she kind of imagined a cozy crib, full of beautiful things.

Walking further in, she frowned, unable to contain her unwanted and brutally honest first impression.

"Seriously? All the sweet government money you guys get and ya'll live like vampires. Really?"

"Salary is not so sweet after the budget cuts. The IRS got hit hard, too." Clara pointed out.

"Well, speaking from experience, a little Target run would help brighten this place up a little, make it a little more…homey, you know? And it's cheap." Angie suggested.

She liked house decorations, even though she, herself, didn't really own any.

In fact, she didn't own things, any kind of things. She had some clothes and a few pairs of shoes. That was it. And then there was the box with her tiny prized possessions and also, her hair bows. That was all she owned. She could move house with just her gym bag and all of her things, inside of it. She had done just that, when she had moved to the Academy. All she owned in life was now stuck in that minuscule dorm room she was sharing with Bryan.

"Want to help me decorate? I have the upcoming weekend off." Clara said cheerfully.

"Can't. Like I said, I'd be looking for a job, somewhere in the world." Angie stated calmly.

"Wait, you weren't joking about it?" This revelation came out of nowhere. Was this kid for real?

"Nope. I'm quitting the Academy. I've been forced to stay until Friday, but then I'm out. I've already printed out my official resignation letter. I'll sign it and hand it to my Class Mentor on Saturday morning." She sounded so damn sure, it was chilling.

"But…but…but…" Clara stuttered. She was at the loss of words. Never in a million years would she have seen that coming. Apparently, as much as Angela hated receiving surprises, she sure as Hell liked giving them.

"You're possibly the best Trainee this year. I keep hearing people talking about you. Come on, you can't leave…" Clara whined.

"I can and I will."

"Why!?"

"Because there is nothing that the Bureau can offer me. Nothing that I want, anyway." Angie sighed and felt like she was sweating. She pulled on her shirt and attempted to take a deeper breath, to fill her lungs with some air.

"Why don't you go take a shower? There's a fresh towel under the sink. I'll go start on that potato recipe, okay? Take your time…" Clara smiled sweetly, but it was all part of her last-moment plan to get rid of Angela for as long as she could, so she could figure things out, with the help of someone.

"Okay." Angie just shrugged, like she didn't have a care in the world.

It was chilling how calm she was after the huge bomb she had just dropped. Clara was no profiler, but she knew the definition of a sociopath and Angie was showing such tendencies. How could she be so calm and collected through this? She did not seem bothered, at all, and Clara knew how hard Angela had worked, just to get in the Academy. So, to just quit like this…it was weird.

Angie walked to the bathroom and locked the door. She trusted nobody, even if she had just told Clara she trusted her, just minutes ago. Better safe than sorry, so the door needed to be locked, although, it was highly unlikely that Clara would come after her with the kitchen knife. But still, she wouldn't risk it.

Clara, on the other hand, grabbed her phone and a jacket and went to the rooftop of her building, which was two floors up from the floor she lives on.

"Pick up!" Clara muttered, having dialed a number she knew by heart.

"Pick up!" She was starting to get a little impatient when all she heard was the beeping of the phone, but no answer.

"PICK UP!" She shouted at no one, but unluckily for her, the person she was calling had picked up at that same moment.

"Woah, trying to blow out my eardrums?" The person said.

"She's leaving the Academy!" Clara shot it, loud and clear, without any sugarcoating.

"I know."

"What do you mean, you know? We can't let her do this!" Clara countered.

"And I'm not letting her do this! But you know how she is…so damn stubborn. If we say anything, it would only make her want to leave faster. So, I'm playing a different angle."

"Please tell me you have a plan." Clara insisted.

"I do. You know I always do. It all goes down on Friday."

"What's so special about Friday? Angela kept raving about it and said she's leaving first thing, Saturday morning. She has printed her official resignation documents." Clara shared.

"Oh yeah? Has she signed those?" The other person asked, giving Clara a moment to remain silent.

"She would never sign that thing. Trust me, I know her." They added, with a somewhat evil laugh.

"I hate how good you are at profiling." Clara had to agree – she just could not imagine Angela signing those papers.

"Are you forgetting who I am?"

"Emily, please stop making this about you." Clara sighed. "We need to keep her here…"

"And I told you – I'm working on it. I'm doing my absolute best, just to get her to want to stay."

"But you know she only wants one thing from the Bureau and, somehow, she now knows that this is not an option." Clara regretted not bringing a glass of wine with her. This conversation was making her want to drink.

Emily, on the other hand, had a glass full of cold white wine, in one hand. JJ was now waiting for her in the living room, as Emily had excused herself, in order to take the damned call that would not stop interrupting her girls' night with JJ, while JJ was grilling her ass about all the dirty details she was willing to share, when it came to her French man.

"I know. I told her about it. And before you call me crazy – just keep in mind that I made it a point to always be truthful with her, okay? If the Bureau says the BAU cannot even welcome an intern this year, Angela has the right to know. If she wants to leave the Academy because of it, I have the right to feel some type of way about it…" Emily smirked. She sure had a plan already set in motion.

"You really care about her, don't you?" Clara smiled, with her cheek smashed against her phone.

"Like you really need to ask." Emily smiled as well.

Clara knew. She understood. That was one of the many reasons why Emily felt so connected to her, why she cherished that friendship so much.

"Now stop freaking out and go prepare that potato thing I texted you earlier." Emily urged her.

"Yeah, about that. Couldn't you have chosen something a little less complicated? Like, damn, what is that recipe!?"

"I didn't choose it. It's one of Angela's favorites. And go crazy on the sour cream. Don't take into account how tiny she is – that girl eats all the caloric things in the world." Emily laughed.

In a way, she was the same. She'd eat healthy and then she'd have moments when she'd have pizza all day, every day. And sweets and ice cream and sugary coffee, anything she wanted. And she still looked amazing, at her age. Genetics - it was the only thing she was grateful to have inherited from her mother, the Big Bad Prentiss, as she called her.

"Thank you for giving me the heads up. I feel like she really needed someone to be there for her and we both know this could not have been you…" Clara fidgeted with the phone in her hands.

"No, it can sadly not be me right now. Not yet anyway. And she does have Bryan, but he doesn't get her like you do. He doesn't know her like we do. And since it couldn't be me, you're the second best."

"Second best!?" Clara faked offense.

"You know what I mean! God, you're as dramatic as Angela. You two could not be any more similar." Emily kept on laughing. Yes, it was a hard conversation to have, but she knew she had to look at it from a humoristic point of view.

"On the contrary. It's always been you that she looks like. It is always going to be you, Emily…" Clara trailed off. She didn't need to put it in words, Emily knew exactly what she meant.

"Go get creative with that sour cream." Emily urged her, because if this conversation continued any longer, she'd surely cry. She was already tipsy enough to feel way too emotional.

"And you go make sure our baby stays with us, okay?" Clara pleaded.

"You know I will, Love." Emily ended the call with those words and she returned to the living room, for some more gossip with JJ.

"Took you long enough!" Angie scared the crap out of Clara as she walked back into her apartment, after finishing that secretive phone call outside.

She was now standing by the living room door, holding a towel against her body and shivering.

"May I use your stuff?" She asked politely.

"Angela, I told you to go have a shower, of course I intended that you can also use any products you wish." Clara specified.

She could not believe Angela had sat there, the entire time, waiting to ask before using anything that did not belong to her. That was why Clara loved her so much.

"Ok, cool." Angie walked back to the bathroom and, once again, locked the door after herself.

Clara busied herself in the kitchen, mentally insulting Emily for that recipe.

When Angie was done with the shower, she briefly reappeared in the living room, making sure she would hear it come from Clara's mouth, that she could go choose any clothes she wanted, from her wardrobe.

Five minutes later, Angie walked in the kitchen, looking like she was going to a party.

"Oh, no. We're not going wild tonight. Forget it. I have a meeting with my Superiors tomorrow morning. I cannot roll to that, drunk. And you're dangerous to go party with. No way!" Clara kept on shaking her head, surrounded by peeled potatoes and stacks of sour cream.

"I'm not going out. I just wanted to look cute…" Angie shrugged.

"In that? At home?" Clara could not suppress her laughter. "Angela, this is possibly the nicest and most elegant dress I own. And you chose that, for a night in?"

"Yeah, why not? Do all of ya'll need to look like freaking nuns all the time? Can't a girl just be cute for one night?" Angie sighed. First Emily with that godawful turtle neck and now Clara, judging her own dress. Those women needed a reality check and some new clothes, quickly!

"Well, I guess you always liked dresses, so…have it your way. Why not?" Clara smiled.

"Oh my God, are you doing the potato casserole with sour cream and cheddar cheese!?" Angie licked her lips, just at the thought of it.

"I'm trying to, but I don't think it's happening…"

"You're not wearing the right attire, my dear…" Angie said in over the top British accent.

"Go fetch yourself something fancy and leave the cooking to someone who is maybe slightly more able…" She laughed.

Clara was a disaster in the kitchen, so anyone would be more able than her.

"I'm not wearing a dress, to cook in!" Clara cringed.

All Angie did was to give her one of her famous icy glares and, five seconds later, Clara was on her way to the wardrobe.

When she came back to the kitchen, she found Angie dancing around and singing along to some song that repeated the word 'bitch' over and over again. This girl sure loved rap music.

"First rule of a successful Chef…" Angie showed her a corner of the kitchen counter where she had already opened a bottle of sparkly wine and laid out two glasses for them.

"Be drunk enough to not give a crap about the outcome!" She ended her sentence while pouring in both glasses and handing one to Clara.

"Hold on a second…" Clara grabbed her phone and pretended to be typing something on it. "Gotta put the Fire Department on speed dial, I feel like." She added, bursting into laughter.

"Girl, you know they can't handle our fayyyyaaaaa!" Angie accompanied her words with a loud and obnoxious snap of her fingers. Yes, she most definitely was a Diva, with an attitude.

Half an hour later, the food was in the oven and they were looking at a pamphlet for takeout pizza. This was how much faith they had in their cooking abilities.

"If we order now, it will be here in time for when we find this thing burning in the oven." Clara spoke, already having chosen a pizza for herself.

"Come on, I want to at least give this a try. I love this dish. Maybe we did something right, hey, who knows…" Angie shot a glance towards the kitchen.

They were now in the living room area and the smell of heated sour cream was just starting to tickle Angie's nose. She felt like she was about to pass out, it smelled more than yummy.

Speaking about little things, such as home décor and cute dresses, time flied and at some point they both jumped from the sofa and made a run to the kitchen, to find out that they had gotten there just in time before the food would be overcooked and, potentially, burned.

"Wow, I didn't really think this would work out. Like, at all!" Angie said.

"Weren't you the one who said we should give it a try before we'd order pizza?"

"Yeah, but that was just for the sake of the team spirit. I honestly thought this would flop." Angie shrugged.

"Oh, aren't you the cutest little cheerleader, with your spirit talk and all that jazz."

"Oh my God! Chicago!" Angie smirked.

"I'm not booking a last minute flight to Chicago, Angela!" Clara had to put it out there.

"Really? First you think I'd wanna go out and have some sort of a wild rave party tonight, now you think I'm hinting that we go to Chicago for the night? Like, really? Is that what you think I do – always getting myself into weird situations without using my brain to process what the outcome of my decisions would be?" Angie raised an eyebrow.

"Have you met you?" Clara raised an eyebrow, right back at her. And touché. Angie could not argue with that.

"I want to watch Chicago, the Musical! That's before you force me to watch some dumb fake TV show, like I'm sure you were planning to do…" Angie cleared it out.

"It's not dumb. It's a show about a girl with superpowers who works in a hospital and helps people…"

"Wow…you just lost some brain cells by saying that out loud." Angie laughed.

"But, it's my favorite show…" Clara frowned. Angela's hatred for movies and TV was not something most people could understand.

"And I like Chicago. So, come on babe…" Angie made a grand gesture with her hand.

"Why don't we paint the town…" She continued, now bursting into a song.

"And all…" She whispered and there was no doubt something grand and overly dramatic would follow.

"That…" She walked closer to Clara, only to pull away abruptly, making space for what was to come.

"Jaaaaaazzzzzzz…" She sung at the top of her lungs, with her hands flying in the air, quite like the scene she was referring to.

"I swear to God, you belong on Broadway!" Clara could not fathom why this girl, with her passion and her talent for Musicals, was so into serial killers instead.

"I know. People keep telling me that." Angie said, so sure of herself, yet without a trace of arrogance.

"Maybe I'll go to some castings, now that I'll have all this free time on my hands after Friday." She added.

Clara then realized that this was not a threat. No. Angie's constant reminder that she wanted to leave was a cry for help.

"God damn, maybe I am a profiler, too…" Clara muttered to herself, in reference to what she had said to Emily earlier, on the phone.

Angie was too busy going through the basic steps from Chicago's choreography, to notice Clara talking to herself.

"Can we eat now?" Angie asked, a minute later, when she was damn sure she still knew every step, every breath, every wink from the whole entire show.

"Oui." Clara replied, handing Angie two plates and allowing her to make the portions, which she would later regret, seeing as Angela had a huge appetite for such a small girl, and she placed three times the food that Clara would have chosen to put on the plates.

"No offense, but I don't like speaking French with you." Angie said honestly.

"Preferisci italiano?" Clara asked and Angie nodded, because she really did prefer talking to her in Italian.

"Allora, parlami di qualcosa. Raccontami una storia. Lo so che ti piacciono le storie." Clara spoke with a smile, urging Angie to talk to her about anything, to tell her a story, seeing as she knew how much Angie liked stories.

Angie helped her bring everything to the living room table where they sprawled on the sofa and grabbed a throw blanket before Clara searched for Chicago on her playlist. Of course she had it – a musical about two women, murderers, enemies who became friends, escaping from a life of darkness and sorrow, both with very dark past and both wishing for a brighter future. It hit a bit too close to home and Clara could not help but picture Emily Prentiss as her female co-lead, if her life was that musical.

While preparations for the show were happening, Angie munched on her potato casserole happily, with the lights now dimmed, as she told Clara a story, in perfect Italian.

She had previously let Rossi believe she knew just a tiny bit of Italian, but that was surely not the case. That girl was fluent, as if she'd lived in Italy long enough to learn the language. Plus, she was really good with languages, which was one more thing she had in common with both Clara and Emily. All three of them sucked in math and physics, but were extremely gifted when it came to languages…and deceit.

"C'era una volta…" Angie started off with the Italian version of 'Once upon a time'.

She then continued, painting a picture of a home, a happy family and a dog. In her story, the family always had dinner together and, if the parents had to be late from work, there would always be someone in the house, to take care of the kids. She mentioned a few games the family liked to play and a few places they'd go on the weekends. She also mentioned a house by the water, but Clara did not catch if it was by a river or a beach.

Then, she quickly moved to talk about the kids dancing all the time and singing whenever they had the chance to. Anywhere. At home, on the streets, at school, in the car, in the shops, anywhere and everywhere they possibly could, the kids would put on a show for whoever was watching. And, if nobody was watching, they'd put on a show for themselves.

"And then they realized…the door was open!" Angie's tone of voice changed completely, now that she was talking about one specific evening, at the house by the water.

Something about the dim lights in Clara's living room allowed for a change in Angie's mood. Slowly, but surely, her happy story took a turn and her bright eyes started to dim a little more, with each word.

"Oh, no! Did the dog escape?" Clara gasped, figuring this was the big drama factor that Angie was going to drop.

"No! But it should have, because it was a dumb dog that was useless anyway."

"Huh?" Clara raised an eyebrow. Who spoke about dogs this way? Generally, people loved dogs.

"Nobody escaped…" Angie's voice went even deeper and the suspense was killing Clara.

What was about to happen? Would the phone ring, like in the scary movies? Angela was damn good at telling stories, it was basically what her entire life had revolved around.

"Someone was in the house…" Angie kept on speaking, all of it being said in Italian.

"No footsteps were heard…"

Clara bit her lips so hard. She did not like scary things, other than her job, of course.

"No sound came out, from anyone…" Angie narrowed her eyes, staring right into Clara's eyes, now that she was practically hovering on top of her, just to make her story more vivid and spooky.

"Ever again!" She added to her previous statement and Clara shuddered.

"Ok, that's enough. Chicago is ready to start…" Clara tried to peel Angie off of her, but the girl would not move.

She kept staring at Clara, with that icy cold glare that had once terrified Section Chief Fowler. She really did seem possessed by something and she did not look like she was in touch with reality, at all, because she did not even register Clara's words.

"Do you know why?" Angie asked, whispering like the creep that she was.

"No and I don't want to know why." Clara gulped. She was done with this story.

"Because whoever came into the house, killed everyone. Every single soul in the house died that night. Every. Single. Soul!" She repeated, slowly, dragged out and with that damn creepy voice that nearly made Clara's heart stop beating.

"Angela, stop…" Clara could not remember a moment in her life when she had felt more uncomfortable.

"Stop…" She repeated, watching Angie hover on top of her, just staring at her with those green eyes, in the dark, piercing through her.

"I'm serious. Jesus Christ, girl, stop it!" Clara then did the colossal mistake of trying to push Angie away.

The mere touch of her fingers, sent Angie into a state she could not help.

Something about her touch – the way her hands pushed Angela away, the way someone dared put their hands on her, made her tick. It triggered an emotional response that she was powerless against. She could not control it, nor prevent it. And then 'sweet little bubblehead' Angie was gone and replaced by a darker version of her.

Her hands grabbed Clara by the shoulders and she just kept on looking at her face. The level of curiosity in her eyes was concerning. It felt like this was the first time Angela had ever laid eyes on Clara and she was trying her hardest to figure her out, by staring at her, like she was her prey.

"The house was full of blood…" Angie continued, keeping her voice low.

"On the walls…on the floor. The kids' room, too. On everything. It was everywhere…"

"I'm begging you, stop it." Clara pleaded. Screw the Fire department, she'd need the Sheriff's Office on speed dial, with this crazy one.

"It was warm and liquid…" Angie continued. She was not hearing Clara's words at all. Even if she did hear her, she was too far gone to be able to stop herself anyway.

"It streaked down their faces in their last moments of life. And they just stood there…helpless…scared…unable to do anything. They were heroes…and yet, they were only human…"

Clara sucked in a breath. Good thing she had prepared a casserole, which did not need to be cut with a knife, because a knife was the last thing she'd want Angela to have access to, at that moment.

"We're only human…we're imperfect…and we are all going to die. Some of us are already dead anyway…" Angie continued and Clara could feel her breath, tickling her nose. That was how close the girl had gotten already.

"And do you know what the dog did?"

"I don't give a crap about the damn dog. Stop!" Clara raised her voice, but it still did not get through to Angela.

"Nothing. That's what it did. Nothing. It just stood there, watching…"

"Dogs have reflexes to protect their owners." Clara finally got Angie to listen.

"No, this dumb ass didn't…" Angie replied.

"And do you know what the dog deserved?" Angie had, somehow, managed to grab the fork in one hand and was now holding it in the air, above Clara's head.

"Holy Jesus, no!" Clara gasped.

With one swift motion she countered Angela, slapping her hand hard enough for the fork to end up on the floor, out of their reach, and then overpowering Angela until she was with her back against the couch and it was now Clara, hovering on top of her instead. Her hands were pinned above her head, just in case.

With that sudden change of pace, Angie snapped out of it and her eyes finally cooled off.

And then she started laughing uncontrollably.

"Oh my God, hahaha, I got you so bad!" She kept chuckling and Clara was now more than confused.

One second, Angela was dancing and singing in the kitchen. Then, she was telling her a beautiful family story, in Italian, before the story turned dark and Angela seemed possessed by the Devil, holding a fork threateningly, over Clara. And then, seconds later, she was laughing at her victory. What the Hell was going on?

"You should have seen your face. Hilarious!" Angie kept on laughing until Clara relaxed and let go of her hands.

"Haha, very funny." Clara said sarcastically. Truth was, for a second there she was afraid for her life.

"Can we watch Chicago in silence now?" Clara asked, wanting nothing more than silence.

"Sure. Although I cannot promise about the silence. I like to sing, like, all the time and everywhere." Angie smiled brightly and it seemed genuine. She was exactly like she always was when Clara had seen her at the Academy – bubbly, smiling and full of life. Maybe she really was a good actress, maybe she just liked putting on a show, like the kids from the story she had just made up.

Angie was quiet for the first five minutes of the musical, before she started muttering the words and singing along, very quietly, as to not disturb Clara while she watched.

Clara, in turn, was watching her phone screen more than the TV. She was having a chat with Emily Prentiss.

"Hey, as a profiler, tell me…if someone blacks out and acts like a completely different person, but then snaps back into who they are…does that make them a psychopath?" Clara had texted first.

"Sociopath, most likely. Although they never really blackout. They know exactly what they are doing and they are conscious. What you're asking me about is most probably 'selective amnesia', which would make more sense in her case." Emily texted back immediately, despite the fact that she was still in JJ's company and still having fun and getting even more hammered. She would normally never use her phone in such a moment, but this was an exception. Clara would always be an exception, for Emily.

"She flipped a switch, Emily! For a moment I thought she'd hurt me with that fork." Cara texted back.

"Don't be ridiculous! If you're even half as drunk as I am, this is just the paranoia speaking. Relax and have fun tonight. Both of you need it." Was Emily trying to get rid of Clara? Or was she creeped out herself and just trying to sound cool about it, while on the inside she was freaking out?

"I did have a few glasses, yeah. I guess you're right. She's not a psychopath, sociopath, whatever you want to call it." As Clara wrote her reply, she shot a glance at Angie who was innocently singing along with a song, her eyes now fixed on the screen, relaxed and soft.

Emily finally let go of her phone, although she really felt tempted to reply with a: Yup, you're definitely not a profiler. But she remained quiet. Some things she'd rather keep to herself.

Clara tried to enjoy the musical, but she could not let go of what had just happened. At some point, she realized Angie was trying to get her attention.

"Hello? Agent Seger?" She snapped her fingers in front of Clara's face.

"Agent Seger? Wow…" Clara laughed. She figured they were way past the formalities.

"May I, please, use your phone? I realize I haven't given Bry-Bry a warning that I'm not coming back home tonight and I don't want him to worry about me." Angie said, with that honey-like voice of hers.

"Sure, I have his number saved from when we were on the case in Cuba." Clara tossed her phone to Angela, without thinking much of it.

She would, one day, regret having done that.

Angie quickly shot a text to Bryan and returned the phone with a smile before she turned her attention back to the musical until the credits started rolling.

"You were awfully quiet for that last part." Clara pointed out.

"Mhm, I didn't want to bother you, so you could enjoy it as well."

"But I do like your singing. You have a beautiful voice. And you're quite good at the dramatic pieces, too." Clara complimented her.

"Why, yes I am, Madam. Yes, I am!" Angie pushed her hair off her shoulders in a very dramatic manner, making Clara laugh.

"Want something for dessert?" Clara suggested. They did have four bags full of snacks, after all, and Clara was tempted to treat herself with some calories.

"No, thank you. I am good. I try not to eat chocolate or any kind of sweets right before bed. I don't sleep well when I'm sugar high." Angie chuckled, remembering a night from the Summer Sports Camp in Philadelphia, right before she joined the Academy, when she had consumed two packs of marshmallows on her own, dipping them in Nutella. Her friend Maggie had refused to join in on that adventure, being an athlete herself. She had to watch her calories and she was strict with what she ate, so that she would always be in good shape. She had been working really hard, for years, and her goal were the Olympics, her discipline: gymnastics. Yes, she was on the Cheer team with Angie, but both of them did cheer just to stay in shape. Neither of them was the airhead type of girl who would fit the cheerleader stereotype that they show in the movies, if that was even true in real life. Angie wouldn't know. She hadn't spent more than a couple of weeks in a row in America, to know enough about American cheerleaders. She had practiced that sport in Europe, as a way to connect to her American routes…and to stay in shape, too.

"Another glass of wine?" Clara offered.

She was now petrified of the thought of having to spend the night, under one roof, with Angela, so her ultimate goal was to get Angela drunk enough to pass out and not wake up until the morning.

"Yes, please." Angie said sweetly. Who was she to say no to wine?

"We should go to bed. I'll go prepare the guest room for you." Clara said, half an hour later, after they had opened the third bottle of wine.

"I'll go leave everything in the dishwasher and check if the door is properly locked. Where are your keys?" Angie asked casually.

"Hanging on the door." Clara called out, already on her way to put fresh sheets on the bed.

"Perfect." Angie smirked, once her hands held the set of keys to Clara's home and also to her car.

"Are you ready?" Clara called out one more time and Angie walked over instantly.

"Yup." She said sweetly, now standing at the door of the guest room.

"Well, this is what I can offer. It's not fancy or colorful, but it is what it is." Clara pointed at the room.

It was all white, which was depressing. At this point, Angie questioned if she'd actually prefer Emily's beige walls to that. Anything would be better than plain white walls, really. There was a large bed in the middle of the room, at least it was not right next to the window. Angie hated windows and bright light. Luckily for her, the shutters were good and she pulled them down instantly, making sure it would be pitch black in the room.

"Aren't you creeped out to sleep in the dark?" Clara asked.

In her line of work, she did not know a single person out of her colleagues, who slept in a pitch dark room. It just was not what an FBI Agent did. The darkness was all around them during their daily jobs, so they all slept with some sort of a light source on.

"I like the dark." Angie pointed out. "Plus, it's not like a psychopath would break in and kill us, right?" She then added, with the tiniest chuckle, escaping her lips.

"Right…" Clara was being paranoid, but that was exactly what she was afraid of. And it scared her to think that said psychopath might already be in her house, smiling at her with those full lips, looking at her with those curious green eyes.

"Goodnight Angela." She said, forcing herself to smile.

"Goodnight, Agent Seger. Thank you for having me in your home tonight." Angie waved at her, noticing how she had laid a set of leggings and a top, for Angie to wear to bed, in case she'd decide to take that evening gown off.

"You're welcome…" Clara said, wishing she could add: I kind of regret it already. But she stayed quiet and just left Angela alone in the room, so she could change and finally get knocked out after all the wine.

It surely did not take Clara too long to fall asleep herself. The moment her head hit the pillow, the exhaustion from the long day at work, plus the stress that Angie had caused her earlier, with her little made up story, helped her doze off instantly and deep enough to be unable to wake up by the sound of her neighbors, yelling at each other yet once again.


REVIEW REPLIES:

"sweetkid45" Hehehe, thank you once again :)!

"rmpcmfan" Honestly, thank you so much for the super dedication to review every chapter indepth. I know it takes time and effort to put it all to words, but I need you to know that it is greatly appreciated and it makes me smile, each time :)! It is probably obvious by now that I am NOT the type of writer to beg for reviews, but I make it a point to show everyone that I DO appreciate those (obviously hehe) they are flattering and a great way to have feedback, even receive ideas or just to ramble with someone new, online! And we all know I'm the bubbliest kid on the block, lol! Now, my maaany comments to your two reviews, in asterisk list view lol:

* I love the Angie/Emily relationship as well. It's definitely all over the place, that is exactly how I want it to be. You'll now learn the lengths to which Emily would go, for Angela...and all the extra support that she would receive. And yes, Emily never speaks of her undercover past, as she doesn't think anyone on her team could relate, thus understand her emotional damage, but somehow with Angela she opens up more and more about it and it makes her feel good to come out and say certain things out loud, after years of repressed emotional issues. The fact that those words might possibly help Angela out with whatever issues she has, is a huge plus for Emily and a huge reason as to WHY she chose to speak up, finally.

* As for Angela, keep in mind she has a MAJOR trauma and about a thousand minor ones, too, so she is absolutely terrified of confiding in anyone. As strong and cool as she comes across, she is actually quite fragile on the inside, quite childlike, quite scared and alone...in need of a human connection, a 'relationship' (NOT meant in a sexual way!) that would make her feel happy and fulfilled, wanted, good enough.

* Also yes, I love me some Emily/JJ fun times. And I was planning on Emily to keep Richard a complete secret, from everyone, but I realized that telling JJ about him gives a certain new depth to their (platonic!) relationship. I love how they are together. Also, you just wait for some minor scheming and major 'covering up for the Boss' time, coming from little miss ChayChay :P!

* As for Victor and Richard, they are the male version of Jemily, honestly. And "Annie" or "Amélie, is quite important to the story...whatever her name might be *wink*.

* Hmm, Amanda is perceptive and she has suspected something for a while now, but she knows better than to confront someone about their trauma. And she gave great advice to Angie, also making her realize she was not the right person for Angie to go talk to, even if she wanted to be able to help. As useless as their little pizza night seemed, it actually helped Angela a lot, in the long run. Well, it confused the crap out of her, but it helped her open her eyes to a concept she had been trying to deny for a while now.