I spend the rest of the short flight acting like I don't see Elle glancing at me. We'd had an awkward moment after the hug, where we'd both tried to talk at the same time and then just walked away from each other. I was going to apologize for panicking, but hadn't gotten the chance.

"God, it's hot." JJ says as we get off the plane at the Thomasville Airport, about an hour away from Syracuse Grove. Nausea rolls over me at the mixture of heat and anxiety from being home. We get in the cars waiting and I lean my head against the window, ignoring the way Elle's thigh is pressed against mine. The drive to my hometown is quiet and hot, the area getting more and more rural as we get closer.

Syracuse Grove was a bit of an oasis, a town of 8,000 people in the middle of rural Georgia. Familiar buildings start popping up as we near town. I perk up slightly as we pass an old barn that we used to have parties in during high school. It was one of our best kept secrets, one that not a single adult knew about. I wonder if the kids still drink in it now.

"Alright." Hotch says as we pull up to the police station. Luckily, we hadn't passed the town center yet, as I really wasn't prepared. I'd loved this town when I was here, but as soon as I was in college, I realized that I never wanted to come back. And yet, here I am.

The team heads into the precinct, where we're greeted by the sheriff. To my surprise, it's a friend of mine from high school, David Turner.

"Holy shit, Sawyer Vanderbilt?" He blurts as soon as he catches sight of me.

"Dave." I say, smiling and he strides forward, wrapping his arms around me. I hug him back and he laughs loudly.

"Y'know, your mom said you were working for the feds. I almost didn't believe it. Figure you'd be out in Hollywood or something."

"Hollywood?" Morgan asks and I shake my head.

"Nothing." I say.

"What do you mean, nothing?" Dave asks, crossing his arms. "This girl could sing like...I don't even know. My grandma used to swear she sold her soul to the devil."

"Dave." I say warningly. "We're here for a case. Not about me."

"Right, sorry. Right this way." He discusses the case with Gideon and Reid, as the rest of us go over photos and interviews.

"You sing, huh?" Elle asks after about an hour, during a lull.

"No. I don't." I say, refusing to look at her. Shame has been overwhelming me since breaking down in front of her, and the constant glances from her haven't helped.

"Really? Dave sounded pretty sure." Her tone is teasing, and my response is completely uncalled for.

"I said no. Drop it." I snap and stand, swiping a folder off the table. I feel eyes on me as I leave, and I already regret reacting like that. The team keeps their distance from me until Hotch announces that we should settle in.

This is the part I'd been dreading. In a very kind offer, my mother had offered to host us. I'd fully intended to refuse, but Gideon had leapt at the opportunity, meaning the entire team in my childhood home for the duration of the case. Reluctantly, I direct Hotch to my neighborhood, keying in the gate code at the end of the driveway. Morgan whistles as we pull up the house.

"Y'all rich or something?" He asks.

"Y'all? The south is really rubbing off on you." Elle teases as we climb out. Susan, my mother is immediately out on the porch, smiling and waving.

"Oh, Sawyer!" She says, hugging me. I hug her back and she hugs all the other members of the team, even Hotch, who looks like he might implode from the warmth. Susan leads us inside, instructing the maid, who I don't recognize, to take the bags.

"That's Arlene. She's a lovely girl." Susan whispers to me and I nod, smiling at Arlene. I make a mental note to apologize to her for my overbearing mother later.

"Come in, come in, I've got lunch prepared." The team immediately digs in to the sandwiches and salad in the kitchen, the aggressively southern-themed lunch complete with iced tea.

"If it's okay with you guys, I'm actually going to go lie down for a bit. I'm exhausted." I say and Elle catches my eyes as I excuse myself. My room is exactly the way I'd left it the last time I'd been here, which had been nearly two years earlier. It looked the same as it had been even back in high school, with white fluffy carpet and the huge four-poster bed with gauzy white canopy. My mother, or rather the house staff, has obviously kept it clean, without a trace of dust on any surface.

"Hey." Elle is standing in the doorway behind me and I raise my eyebrows. She steps in, looking around.

"Wow. Backstreet Boys?" She looks at the poster as she closes the door behind her.

"Yeah." I say, shrugging.

"Can't imagine you living here. It's so...not you." She's absolutely right, the pink and white bedroom isn't exactly what you'd think of when someone said Sawyer Vanderbilt. At least, to the people I know now. To the people of Syracuse Grove however, Sawyer Vanderbilt would always be the perfect prom queen, who'd been at the center of every function, always volunteering and helping with charity events. Sawyer Vanderbilt to them was nothing more than a white-shrouded debutante with too-big aspirations.

"I'm not who I used to be." I simply say, hoisting myself up to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Are you okay?" Elle asks, coming to stand in front of me.

"I'm fine, Elle." I say and her legs press against my knees as she stands close.

"I'm sorry this is happening here. In your town."

"Not really my town anymore." I say and she sighs.

"Still. I'm sorry."

"Thanks." I say softly and she takes my hands, staring at me. My entire body heats up and she grins suddenly.

"So. A singer, huh?"

"Oh, god." I roll my eyes and she laughs.

"How come you never told me?"

"Don't really sing much anymore."

"All those karaoke nights I invited you too, and you never came. Wasted potential."

"You'd have hated if I was there." I tease. "I'd have absolutely smoked you."

"Hey!" She shoves my shoulders and I fall back. Without realizing it, I've pulled her with me. She falls on top of me, laughing. I try to shove her off and she holds me down, sitting up. She's straddling me, grinning down at me like she knows what she's doing. All I can do is stare up at her as she grins down at me, face flushed.

"We've got the rest of the day off. What should we do?" She says, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. The investigation had been held up for us as the locals tried to match our profile we'd given with anyone in town.

"Get force fed southern cuisine by my very dear mother, probably."

"I like her. She's really nice." Elle says and I nod. My mother had been strict and required perfection from Marina and me as kids, but there was no denying the innate Southern hospitality she carried.

Elle wiggles off of me, flopping down beside me. It feels like high school, when Thalia Young and I had laid on my bed for hours, talking about everything we could think of. Thalia was the first person I'd ever kissed, when we both tentatively admitted we'd never kissed anyone, at age 15. She suggested we try on each other and we'd laughed about it for a while before actually trying it. It was awkward and we'd never brought it up again, but there were a few drunken nights at parties where we'd ended up with the other person's lipstick smeared on our lips, and still, we both continued to claim we were straight. Absentmindedly, I wonder where Thalia was now. It wouldn't surprise me if she'd up and left after school, ending up in London or Tokyo, like the big dreams we'd always talked about.

"Hey." Elle says, flipping on her side to face me. "Whatcha thinking about?"

"My first kiss." I admit and she raises her eyebrows.

"Ooh, spill."

"Eh. Not very interesting." I say, having no idea how to explain that. There was no way Elle didn't know I wasn't straight, but saying it was a whole other ordeal.

"Mine was with Michael Rohrbach in eighth grade. I hated it. Never spoke to him again." I laugh and let my eyes drift closed.

I wake up to the light of the setting sun, sweaty in my jeans and long-sleeved shirt. Elle's asleep next to me, her arm thrown over my waist, face buried in my neck. I take a deep breath and stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to do.

"Elle." I whisper. "Elle." She blinks her eyes open and rolls off of me, rubbing at her eyes.

"What time is it?" She groans.

"Like, six, I think."

"Oh, wow." She says, sitting up, her face inches from mine. Her eyes flick down to my lips and I want to lean in, but a knock on the door interrupts us.

"Sawyer, sweetie, we're having dinner soon!" My mom's voice comes through.

"Okay. Be down in a minute!" I call and her footsteps head away. I slide off the bed and stretch, Elle following me to the door. She grabs my wrist as I open it and I turn.

"Sawyer?"

"Yeah?" Her lips part and then close again.

"Nevermind." She lets go of my arm and brushes past me, joining Morgan as he walks down the stairs. I stare after her as she walks away, wondering where this is going, this unspoken thing between us.

"Vanderbilt. You okay?" Hotch asks and I snap out of it, nodding.

"I'm fine. Yeah. We should go downstairs." I don't give him a chance to say whatever he looks like he's about to say, striding towards the stairs. 'I'm fine.' I tell myself.

hi, hope you liked it!! more is coming soon, i'm just trying to figure out how to establish sawyer's past in a not-boring way HAHA -sasha