Chapter II: An Unconventional Shrink

"Excuse me…"

At the sound of the amiable female voice, Rossi turned. His dark eyes stared at a very attractive woman in her early thirties: not very tall, long, glossy brown curls cascading onto her back, deep green eyes, she was dressed in a tight sweater of soft black mohair, a fuchsia velvet miniskirt, a heavy black pantyhose hugging her shapely legs, and short black patent leather high-heeled boots. The tag pinned on her sweater said visitor.

Her appearance was much to Rossi's liking, as he was a great admirer of feminine beauty. He smiled at her, showing off his white teeth in the short dark beard framing his mouth. "How can I help you?"

The stranger returned his smile. "I'm looking for Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. Can you direct me to his office?"

"Sure... May I have your name, please?" Rossi enquired, as he was reluctant, despite her charm, to let her roam freely about the BAU offices. If she had been allowed to enter, she had to have a good reason to be here, however it was unusual that she had not been accompanied.

"I'm Aileen Balderi", the woman introduced herself, her smile never faltering.

David Rossi was a sly man, both professionally and personally; over twenty-five years in the FBI and three wives, as well as many relationships, had made him that way. However, for several seconds he was speechless.

Was this the shrink Strauss had hired to counsel them? She in no way looked like the eminent professional the section director had described: no glasses, no bun, no tailored suit. Instead, she was a young and beautiful woman sporting a modern and informal outfit. Perhaps a little too young, but if she was anything like Reid, this would be no problem.

Aileen's smile broadened as she tilted her head slightly to the side, her facial expression turning vaguely quizzical: apparently, the cat had got her interlocutor's tongue. Of course, she knew who he was: she had read and memorised the files of all the members of the BAU Alpha Team. She hadn't thought she would be able to impress this attractive and brilliant, fifty-year-old FBI agent who had created the profiling science, and who happened to be also a famous writer of essays on the same matter.

Rossi regained his wits in just a few seconds, but he realised immediately that Aileen was well aware that she had caught him off-guard.

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Balderi", he said, offering her his hand. "I'm David Rossi, one of your future patients."

"My pleasure", she answered, shaking hands with him. She thought it unimportant to tell him she already knew.

Rossi reciprocated her handshake, finding it strong and firm despite Aileen's hand being much smaller than his. "I'll show you to our boss' office", he offered, gesturing for her to follow him.

She walked alongside him, needing three steps for every two of the man's much longer legs. "Thank you, Special Agent Rossi, but I'd rather introduce myself to Special Agent Hotchner on my own", she declared, gently but resolutely. "Please, just show me how to find his office."

Her tone was too polite for Rossi to feel offended. "Okay", he said, as they entered in the bullpen, where Morgan, Reid and Emily's desks were. "Over there", he stopped and showed her the door at the opposite side of the room.

"Thank you, Special Agent Rossi", Aileen took her leave, starting immediately off.

Only Spencer Reid was in the bullpen, as he had been the first to arrive that morning. As she headed for the door Rossi had pointed her to, Aileen cast him a greeting smile, which he returned instinctively before blushing like a schoolboy. He was over thirty, had an incredibly high IQ, an eidetic memory, a reading speed of twenty-thousand words a minute, graduated the first time at sixteen, two more degrees later, three doctorates, was a wonder boy, a true genius, but socially, he was terrible, and very shy with the women he didn't know.

Perceiving his embarrassment, Aileen's expression became reassuring, and Reid relaxed visibly. Within the few seconds that the exchange took, Rossi saw and figured it all out, like the excellent profiler he was, and thought that perhaps, after all, Dr. Aileen Balderi had a reputation for a reason.

After knocking, Aileen waited for Hotchner's invitation, and then she entered.

The office was spacious and furnished with essential style; paintings graced the light-coloured walls, while several framed photos were scattered across the room. A handsome man in his early forties, with dark eyes and hair, was seated behind a desk, and when Aileen entered, he lifted his gaze and stared at her.

Aileen felt as if a baseball bat had hit her square in the forehead. She held her breath and blinked several times as if her sight had blurred. She realised that Hotchner had said something, but she hadn't heard him; luckily enough, her brain worked independently of her emotional reactions, hence it had registered the question anyway: "What can I do for you?"

Aileen came to her senses again and moved into the room, closing the door behind her. "Good morning, Special Agent Hotchner, I'm Aileen Balderi", she introduced herself, relieved to find out that her voice was firm as usual.

Being quite the introvert, when caught unawares Hotchner could keep his reactions in check better than Rossi, who was instead a much more extroverted person. Hence, he didn't even flinch, however, he was no less surprised than his colleague had been minutes earlier, and for the same reasons. To which was added an odd and inexplicable flutter in the pit of his stomach.

"I was expecting you", he just said. "Please, take a seat."

Aileen seated herself in one of the two upholstered chairs in front of the desk and crossed her legs. Out of the corner of his eye, Hotchner noticed that the movement caused the hem of her miniskirt to climb a couple of inches on her thigh, but he kept his gaze firmly on the newcomer's face. He appreciated the sight of a nice pair of female legs, of course, but it was very inappropriate staring at a colleague's.

"As you know, I have been hired to support you and your team", said Aileen. "Specifically, offering you psychological assistance whenever you feel the need."

"Yes, of course", Hotchner nodded, a little disappointed by the banality of Aileen's observation, but he was unable to explain that feeling. "However, I have to admit that I am quite perplexed, and my team too, because we're not at all sure we truly need psychological support."

"But I am", Aileen promptly countered. "I became convinced after learning what exactly your job entails. I confess I greatly admire you all: you do quite extraordinary things."

"Thank you", answered Hotchner, without knowing what to think exactly of that unexpected statement, expressed in such a sincere and disarming tone. He also felt a bit distracted: this young woman, besides being very attractive, was also terribly sexy... He immediately turned his thoughts away from this improper path and focused back on the conversation.

Aileen nodded to emphasise what she had just said, then she went on. "Probably you don't realise it, because for you it became the norm, a usual mindset, but your psyche is constantly bombarded with highly negative stimuli. Sure, I know you're able to compartmentalise and metabolise, or otherwise you would've already fallen apart, as it had happened to some colleagues of yours. However, the remnants, so to speak, little by little pollute your minds and, sooner or later, they'll poison you eventually." She leaned forward as if emphasising what she was saying. "Think of me like this: I will be your antidote."

"An original perspective", commented Hotchner, unperturbed. It wasn't exactly easy though: the psychologist's speech had struck him, and the analogy she had drawn as well. Moreover, Aileen had truly great legs... Stop it, idiot!

"Many colleagues of mine have called original my whole approach to psychological analysis", Aileen declared, in turn unperturbed. "I start with the assumption that it's not the therapist helping the patients, but the patients helping themselves, while the therapist simply assists them."

Hotchner reflected upon this for a moment and found himself in perfect agreement. "Quite right", he commented.

He doubted that, in the unusual mental state he was in right now, he would be in disagreement with her, about anything.

"Good", Aileen concluded. "As soon as possible, I'd be happy to meet all the members of the team in one go, to introduce myself. Then, at their convenience, I will talk with each one separately."

Hotchner cast a glance at his wristwatch. "They should all be here within minutes", he said. "If you like, we can do it in – let's say – fifteen minutes, in the meeting room."

"Excellent", she agreed. "Meanwhile, I'm going to have a look at my office."

As soon as the psychologist had left, closing the door behind her, Hotchner leaned back in his chair, relaxing and realising just then how he had been tense throughout the whole interview. To be precise, from the moment Aileen Balderi had set foot into the room.

His wife Haley had left almost four years earlier, and during that time, Hotchner had never felt drawn to any woman. Yet, he had met even very beautiful ones, and among them, some had been openly available for him, but no one had sparked a reaction in him. It was as if that part of him, the male, had been extinguished. He had loved Haley deeply, and he would love her forever, but he wasn't in love with her anymore. The problem was another, of purely emotional nature: after such a blow, he had no intention to embark on a relationship with a woman who wouldn't inspire him with immediate confidence. With his closed nature, Hotchner was always slow to trust an outsider, and with his job, he had no time to cultivate female friendships that could potentially lead to something more. Therefore, since he and Haley had parted ways, Hotchner had led a solitary lifestyle.

And now, Aileen Balderi had marched into his office and, all of a sudden, he had felt disoriented. For a moment, a vivid image crossed his mind: himself rising, running after her, taking her back into the office and throwing her onto the desk to tear off her clothes and make love to her until both felt exhausted. He tore himself away from those naughty fantasies and shook his head, incredulous: what had come over him? He didn't recognise himself anymore.