CHAPTER FIVE

I WOKE UP FEELING OPTIMISTIC. Things have been going really well at this job. First case being completed without any hiccups and for the first time in a while I don't feel entirely overwhelmed. It helps being able to sleep somewhere other than a crummy motel room. I was finally placed in a 'safe house' after four weeks of being made to crash in a roach infested motel that was so small you could hardly turn around.

'Safe house' is a very loose term. It really is a living placement that my FBI handlers set for me. Like a safe house its to be a safe haven, a place certain people cannot trace me to. But in reality the FBI just wants to know where I am at all times, which was made clear with the random drive by checks I've caught an agent doing. It's not like I'm going anywhere. My life will only consist of 'working' at the Bureau, going on cases, and occasionally popping out for a run when I feel like chest is about to explode from anxiety. Still, the government likes to keep an eye on their trophies. Which strangely works perfectly in my favor.

The building is small, only four brick apartments. Two stacked on top of each other. My landlord Mr.Harlow,  a man in his late sixties who has buddies in both the FBI and CIA- or at least that's what he told me as I moved my belongings into the place. His properties are sporadically used to house ones placed in WPP all over the state. He seemed nice, thoughtful and most importantly- he knows the drill. After having many people temporarily placed in one residence or another he has kept the place fully stocked and furnished. He also knew not to ask many questions, and he assured me this would probably be the first and only time we'd ever see each other.

Now, I don't know if that's because I was placed here for a reason and he thinks I soon will be moved somewhere different, maybe possibly killed, or if he just knows to stay out of the way. Whatever the case, I'm glad to be somewhere semi-stable.

The apartment is far nicer than I would have ever expected to be placed in. Its not glamorous or grandiose- its just perfect. When you walk in to the right is a small kitchen area, to the left is a sitting-room with floor-to-ceiling windows. The FBI must not be worried about someone trying to take me out because they chose a place with such big beautiful windows, but I'm not complaining by any means! It has dark wooden floors. Exposed brick makes up most of the walls. A short hall with a bedroom and washroom at the end is directly ahead of the front door. The windows overlook a small park, and let in a lot of natural light. The first thing I did was buy some low maintenance houseplants! The place is small, and quaint. It's absolutely perfect.

I'm ecstatic! I've never had a place so nice. I was bouncing around the foster system, which in my case often meant shared twin beds or maybe an air mattress to myself if I was lucky. After that I had lived in a one studio-dorm after another as I moved across multiple universities once I was emancipated. Then he convinced me to move in, and it was back to sleeping on a cigarette stained and crumb infested couch- if I earned it. Most of the time I'd be on the dirty ground with a blanket amongst the take out wrappers, used syringes, and around ten or twenty other people depending on the week.

"Awe, I'm sorry babe. Maybe you'll do what I ask next time, yeah? No, no you silly lil' thing I'm not being cruel, I'm just teaching you how the real world works. And you'll do better for us tomorrow, right? Good I know you will."

Maybe this won't be so bad. I'm already seeing the perks of being here.

With the free hours of the morning I went for a run, showered, and I even ate breakfast- from a cafe but it still counts. When I entered the BAU I had a smile on my face, which of course drew everyone's attention since non of them seem to be morning people. I laughed along to Morgan's sarcastic remarks, and I smiled at Rossi's joke about early birds with a the roll of my eyes.

But the winds shifted at the sound of her voice.

"Dr. Cypher." My smile drops, my conversation with JJ and Garcia about my apartment going unfinished as I turn around at the greeting. Erin Strauss stands behind me, her cold stare commanding my attention as she gestures for me to follow her. With a quick glance at JJ, I obey her unspoken command. Strauss ushers me into the conference room, giving Hotch a stern shake of her head when he tries to approach us.

"What do you need, Ma'am?" I ask stiffly, keeping my eyes drawn to the ground as she closes the blinds on the window.

"It has been a month since you joined the Behavioral Analysis Unit." She points out. I feel the heavy weight of her eyes on me, but I don't give her the satisfaction of meeting her eyeline. "I'm checking up on how that is working out for you. I'm going to meet with Aaron Hotchner as well. If he or you feel like this isn't a good fit, there are many other departments in desperate need of your kind of talent. I had sent you an email about this, telling you to come to my office straight away."

I could be transferred? That would ruin... no one told me I could be... I cannot be transferred.

"I-I didn't see the email. Its actually easier to get ahold of me with a phone call... just for future reference?" I cringe when meeting her eyes. The statement sounding like a pathetic excuse, making me sound incompetent. "Things are fine here, ma'am. I mean great. Things are great."

"Mm." She hums at that and I have to resist the urge to furrow my brows at her behavior. "I take it you're settled in housing now?"

This is odd. She can't possibly think I'm stupid enough to believe that is the only reason she's here. The few times I've met this woman she has been the embodiment of business. Straight forward, and officiant, her words acting like a blunt knife, dull, cold, and painful.

"Yes, I moved in this weekend. My one duffle shockingly didn't take longer to unpack!." I respond, although I'm certain she doesn't care about that- she didn't even notice the sarcasm. "Why are you really here, ma'am? It must be important to get you away from what I'm assuming is a very busy schedule. And you know as well as I that small talk is above someone of your rank."

Strauss sighs, a slight chuckle breathing through as she shakes her head. She knows I've seen right through the pleasantries. "I have an additional assignment for you." She pulls a small stack of files from her bag. "Nothing that will take you away for your work here, but something do to on your 'free time'. A few highly ranking associates have grey backgrounds that were looked into. I need you to translate."

Yes! I had expected they would want me to handle things like this, but I never expected it to be so soon. I bite the inside of my cheek as my eyes fall on the folders containing classified information and personal details of governmental elitists. I can't seem too eager, though. Despite my perspective, Erin Strauss is a relatively smart woman. Stubborn and polished. And I have a feeling she won't take well to a little pushback.

"Wait, I don't understand. You expect me to do this in my free time?" I question. "Why can't I- I don't know- set aside one day a week to focus on these extra assignments? I would think it difficult to give one hundred precent on the cases we are working and these unrelated projects."

And she does something I don't expect. She chuckles. Its quiet, sarcastic in an almost threatening way. "Oh Dr. Cypher. You don't have free time anymore." She drops the heavy files to the table with a flourish. "We are getting our full use out of you."

Her words light a blaze in the pit of my stomach, anger igniting like a switch in my brain. "That is not a part of the 'job description' ma'am." My voice is monotoned, no emotion shown through my voice or facial features. A stoic mask which I've perfected over the years.

"I understand you are not fond of this situation." Her tone icing over.

"I'm meant to be working- unpaid mind you- like a dog for the far future. And you can understand that I'm 'not fond' of the exploitation?" I bite back. "Your power of comprehension is laughable."

"This is your warning, Cypher." Erin declares in a hushed yet stern voice. "I'm going to overlook your disrespect this one time. However if you speak or act childish or vindictive again I will not hesitate to enforce disciplinary measures. Regardless of your 'feelings' your job description is to be accessible, do what you are assigned, and to not ask questions. Not just in the BAU, but anywhere we see fit. Do you understand?" Her voice is strong, and determined.

"What is your job? Come on even you can remember something this simple."
"To do... To do what I'm told."
"Very good. And what did I tell you about asking questions?"

I flinch at the sting of my skin, my breath hitching in my throat. The memory hitting me harder than his hands, and I'm quickly regretting my words.

"Yes, ma'am." My fingers absentmindedly trail up the sleeve of my sweater, hooking and snapping the rubber tie on my opposite wrist.

"Bring the files and the translations to my office as soon as they are completed." I keep my eyes low, avoiding her gaze in the wake of my scolding as she heads to leave. "This goes without saying, Dr. Cypher." She pauses on her way to the door. "The information in those files are highly classified."

"Without saying, ma'am." Satisfied with my reluctant response, she leaves me alone in the room, headed to Aaron's office to do my employee evaluation.

I hate this. Yet, it's only the beginning. First it's translating files, then what? I hate being stuck under everyones thumb.

"Two years, three hundred twenty days, fifteen hours, five minutes." I mutter to myself as I approach the files and begin to thumb through them. "Two years, three hundred twenty days, fifteen hours, five minutes."

"What happens then?"

I yelp in surprise as I quickly close the file. Glancing over my shoulder to see Spencer holding his signature mug of coffee."Nothing. Nothing happens, I-I'm just uh talking to myself. You know, as one does." His hair is messy, yet still somehow fell perfectly. That isn't fair. In the month I've known him, he has yet to grow ugly.

His eyes narrow at my frustrated state, as he begins pulling off his messenger bag. He must have just arrived. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." I close the files, holding them against myself. "Don't worry about it."

Spencer's brows crease in confusion, but he dosent make any attempt to ask again. Instead he changes the subject. "What are you doing in the conference room? There isn't a case I don't know about, is there?"

"No!" I giggle. "Not yet anyways. Erin Strauss was doing a little assessment of my time here."

His eyes widen, and I can see the wheels in his head turning. He is worried.

"You do like it here, right?" His voice is soft, yet urgent. "I mean I know the three cases we've had with you have been... gruesome. And, and, and things with Emily have been tense, Derek may be too flirtatious at times..." he trials off, almost like he is debating on saying more, but when his eyes meet my attentive gaze he decides against it. "But you do really well!" His bashful gaze brings the smile back to my face.

I stifle a laugh at his stammering, mentally scolding myself as my cheeks flush at his words. "I like it here." My smile grows as I notice his eyes brighten. "I can handle gore without a problem, I've been working on things with Emily- I brought her a scone yesterday and she didn't reject it. And Dereks flirting is harmless, its actually a nice constant if that makes sense. I like hearing the new creative banter he and Penelope come up with everyday."

"Good." He breathes out, his voice barely audible. "Good, because we would miss you here."

"Awe, you would miss me?" I tease as I near him.

"I..." his mouth falls open.

"I'm teasing, Spence." I laugh, walking past him out the door. Ever since I moved into that apartment, he has made an effort every day to talk to me. Mostly just simple small talk that escalates to one of his information packed ramblings. Perhaps that is why he came into the conference room instead of heading straight for his desk. Since we have been talking a bit more than usual, I have to poke-fun at him once in a while. He gets so bashful despite his efforts to appear unbothered.

It's cute.

"Yes I would." His kind eyes are boring into mine his gaze soft and sincere as he follows quickly after me. "Everyone would... I-I would."

I put the files in the desk drawer, and give him a small smile. He is really going to need to start being less likable. "I'd miss you all too." Despite not knowing them long, I've grown accustomed to being around the group. I try to mask the slight sadness that stained my voice. I'm not supposed to get close to these people.

"Why we missing each other?" Derek leans against my desk, causing me to turn around at his voice.

"Oh, nothing. Forget Garcia— you're the one who needs a bell."

"Nah seriously, you gonna' be like that now?" He turns his attention to Spencer. "Why are we missing her? She gonna fake her death or something?"

Oo, interesting. I shake the thought of unfound freedom from my mind as my hand rests against the phone in my pocket. A weight that a fake death cannot escape.

"Erin Strauss is here." Spencer informs after a long look my way, making sure I was okay with telling him. "Evaluating her month with us."

"Oh." Morgan pauses, his eyes drifting to Aaron's office window which has been covered. "That's why the air went cold a few minutes ago. Well, I don't plan on letting you leave us so quickly." He leans into to throw his arm over my shoulder, but he pauses when he notices the way my body immediately pulled back. "I forget," he chuckles, flashing his bright smile. "No touching."

"No touching." I give him my best smile, but it felt empty and forced.

Over the past few weeks this group, that doesn't hesitate to hug or bless one another with a friendly touch, have found out that I happen to have a problem with that. When I first pulled away from Penelope's incoming hug, I didn't want anyone to notice the amount of fear that her incoming touch instilled. So I laughed it off. The next time I flinched away from one of them, I jumped on their idea that I was like the one and only Doctor Reid— a chronic germaphobe. That wasn't a far fetched excuse, because Spencer after years still rarley let's the team touch him.

My hand wanders to the hair tie on my wrist, snapping it harshly twice to bring myself back to reality.

"How did your 'date' go last night?" I ask as I sit in my chair, leaning back to look up at the two men leaning by my desk.

"Let's just say... I didn't get much sleep." Derek winked.

"Gross!" I giggle, my expression mirroring Spencers abhorrent one. "I mean, good for you, but way too much information."

"Sunshine, you've been here long enough to know we don't keep secrets. We're a family."

We all keep secrets.

"So your sex life is something you account to your biological family?" Spencer crosses his arms, giving him a pointed look. "Should I give Yvonne a call about that? Doesn't seem healthy." A knowing smile spreads across my face as I watch the scene unfold.

"Now pretty-boy leave my auntie out of this. Besides you wouldn't know anything about all that, would you?" Derek pokes at Spencer's side, causing him to jump away from him.

"Hey-"

"Now boys," Emily pushes past them on her way to her desk. "Behave." She warns, giving me a small nod in passing.

A small smile forms on Spencer lips as he looks between Emily's retreating form and my baffled face. "She nodded at you." He observes.

"Today a nod," I muse, pressing my hands together in a prayer position. "Tomorrow friendship bracelets."

Our attention is diverted to the second story, where Hotch's office door opens. Erin Strauss is escorted out by Aaron, a quick handshake exchanging between the two. My breath catches as we lock eyes. She nods her head in my direction, giving me a silent reminder to complete the assignment given to me. I look away quickly, finding the ground to be much more interesting.

Once the door closes again, I survey the room proving she actually left.

"Nicolette." Spinning in my chair I see Aaron is in front of my desk. Derek and Spencer are now at their own designated places, preparing to start working.

"Yes sir?"

"Could you follow me to my office?"

"No need, sir." If I go into that office, I will tell him about the files, and I will show just how angry his boss makes me. I give him my most convincing smile. "I'm sure whatever was said between you two, can stay between you two. In all honesty, Hotch, I like it here. But I... understand if you feel this isn't a good fit for the team."

Don't recommend a transfer. Don't recommend a transfer.

He pauses, glancing at the other agents who seem to be focused on anything besides us. "Cypher. I told her you have helped this team exponentially, and you are greatly valued here." He says quietly, trying to keep the information between us.

"I appreciate that." He gives me a tight lipped smile, his tired eyes glancing around the room at his unit. He hasn't been sleeping much, it dosent take a profiler to see that. The dark circles under his eyes, and his unusual caffeine consumption is enough to come to that conclusion.

"Of course, my statement has nothing to do with your decision to stay." My brows furrow. He can't possibly think I'm planning on leaving.

"Aaron." My eyes glance around at the others, my voice low as I decided only he could hear me. "I'd rather spend the lotted time with you and this team, then on some other unit."

And I actually mean that. Its been refreshing being around him again, like I found the only good part of myself with his return in my life. His mouth opens and quickly closes again, debating on saying something. Deciding against it, he gives me a stiff nod.

"Sir." JJ speeds towards us, putting a hand in his shoulder to drag his attention away from me. Informing him about a case.

"Round table, five minutes." He calls through the bullpen.
••••

Once we have gathered in our usual seats at the table, Penelope comes storming in, clicking on the monitor. "Okay my pretties, strap in because this one is wild! Here on the screen you'll see four unidentified bodies that have been found in Scottsdale Arizona."

"Well it's obviously the same unsub." Prentiss squints at the her file on the case. "All disposed of in the same site. Who found the first body?"

"They were found in an abandoned lot of land that had just recently been sold. The construction workers found them when they began digging out the foundation for the owners new condo complexes." She stood with her back to the screen, refusing to look at the photos.

"They are all at different stages of decomposition." I add. "Oldest one looks to be... six years old? I-I mean the decomposition. They're in the later stages of decomposition they-they've probably been dead around six years. The victim is older then six years old... obviously. T-The bones are... too large." I clear my throat trying to relieve the awkwardness before my eyes catch on one of the photos. It's skull, and ribs are completely crushed, nearly turned to pebbles. "Did the workers disturb the body?"

"Unfortunately their bulldozer was not very gentle."

"Have they determined the cause of death?" Hotch asks next.

"The medical examiner is still working on it. But as far as he can tell, starvation was the leading factor."

"Starvation." Rossi mused, rubbing his chin. 
"He must have kept them for weeks- maybe months. That points to an organized killer."

"The latest body is very obviously female, could we be looking at a select victimology?" Spencer flips though the photos.

"But the skeletal remains of the first victim is male." I confirm, glancing up at the team after a moment of silence. "The pelvic bone is far to narrow to be female."

"Wait, you're right." Spencer brings the picture close to his face, trying to examine the remains. I give him a nod of thanks, and turn to Penelope.

"Well starvation isn't a quick process. It's a hundred times longer then stabbing, shooting or even strangling someone. He has to have held them somewhere. Basement, caller, attic." Emily points out.

"Starvation is a form of torture." Derek chimes in. "But the method of starving someone to death doesn't indicate a sexual sadist. Sure there are fetishes surrounding starvation- but they don't just let the person die because of it that negates the whole kink around it. No. It's likely this runs deeper, and the victims are surrogates for someone he knows?"

"But if these were substations- the victim profile would be uniform." JJ shakes her head. "Apparently there's different genders amongst the bodies found. I'm sure the pathologist will confirm that."

"Exactly. Perhaps these are the people he knew. This level of patience make it personal. It's very rare for a serial murderer to use starvation as a method of killing. The timeline is unpredictable, and there is very little control over the actual death of the victims." Spencer leans back in his chair, flipping through the files.

"Yeah, it ultimately doesn't make sense." Rossi leans forward. "If we are dealing with a killer who's ultimate goal is death- why draw it out if not for sexual or sadistic pleasures? And why choose a method of killing that doesn't give you complete control of the victims deaths?

"Are their more photos of the burial site?" JJ asks, scrolling to the end of the photos on her tablet.

"The local P.D Chief will be sending more detailed photographs as soon he can. You'll probably get them on the plane." Penelope answers, glancing at Hotch to be sure it was okay for her to turn the monitor off. He nodded, and the screen when black.

"Wheels up in twenty."

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