Spencer Walter Reid always prided himself on his work. As the youngest agent in the history of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, who had three Ph.Ds. and a IQ of 187 — he didn’t see the logic in romance. That was until a new French intern started at his unit. He found his thoughts drifting towards the new face —purely for psychological research purposes. She didn’t seem too much older than he was, but she felt much colder than he was. She didn’t let anyone get close and Spencer found himself wanting to figure out this mystery of a woman. Was she traumatized? Or was she just unsocial? He was planning on finding out.

Esther Mae Ashford wasn’t interested in making friends. She was an intern for the Behavioral Analysis Unit, looking straight through her coworkers unless a case assignment forced her to speak. She was here to jumpstart her career as an agent so she could get the answers she had been seeking since she was seventeen years old. Why her? Despite all of this, a tall lanky profiler who didn’t seem too much younger than her had piqued her interest. Why didn’t he carry a firearm yet? Was he incompetent? Poor Aim? It made her curious —but she wouldn’t let herself get distracted.

The bullpen was oddly quiet for it being in the midst of a shift. The coffee pot beeped from the corner of the break room, as heels clacked upon the tiled floors. As she walked, her heels made against the tiles, echoing in the odd silence. Her brown hair bounced as the straightened hair yearned to be in its natural state of waves. Her analytical, cold green eyes searched through the bullpen as she climbed the steps towards the Unit Chief’s office.

Something, or rather someone caught her attention. A scrawny, tall man who was hunched over sat at a desk, twirling a pen between his long slender fingers. Who was he? She shook off the thought despite her curiosity growing. She wasn’t here to ponder on who she would be working with. Something made her glance towards the strange man once more. No firearm? Was he a visitor of some sort? No, that couldn’t be since he didn’t wear a visitor badge. A profiler or rather an FBI agent that didn’t carry a firearm. Curiosity was a dangerous luxury she couldn’t afford.

Esther felt her eyebrow raise before she continued towards the Unit Chief’s office. Knocking on the door in her own unique one-two-one-two-three way she stepped into the office, meeting the undying gaze of an older serious man. Her green eyes glanced down to read the name on the plaque on his desk. ‘Aaron Hotchner,’ the name she had memorized months ago. The older man stood up from his desk and offered her a hand to shake Esther’s hand. She accepted, giving him a steady hand shake in turn before pulling away.

“Thank you, sir for letting me intern here. “ Esther spoke, her professionalism manners showing as she looked up at Aaron, who gave her a tight lipped nod. Oh, so he was quite professional aswell. It was a relief, to know that the man wouldn’t try befriending her. After all, she didn’t come here as an intern to make acquaintances. She came here to learn from the greatest minds the FBI had to offer. To avenge her. The newspaper clipping she kept in her purse weighed heavier at the thought. The local police had failed her. Esther wouldn’t stop until she found the man who had made every second since that night feel like a thousand years.

“ There is no need to thank me, Agent Ashford. Your director spoke highly of you, and I hope you’ll contribute to this team.” Hotchner asserted with another one of those nods. Esther bowed her head in acknowledgement.

“I will sir, no doubt about it.” She spoke confidently as she lingered by an armrest he had in his office.

“That is it. You’re welcome to use any of the free desks, I’ll have you shadow some of my agents for the first few cases.” Hotchner dismissed with a formal point towards the bullpen with his head.

Esther blinked, astonished. That was easier than she anticipated, though she should’ve expected it due to her director personally calling Hotchner about her. She gave a stiff nod, before tightening her grip on her bag as she walked out of Hotchner’s office and down the steps. Her eyes scanned the uncrowded desks before finding one that was empty and sat her bag down on it. The hairs on the back of her neck stood in warning that someone was watching her.. closely.

Sitting down at her new desk, she pulled out her laptop and set it precisely in the center. As she lifted the lid, the screen flared to life, illuminating a stark photograph of Mont Blanc. The jagged French peak was entirely devoid of human life—yet the raw, amateur framing made it clear that Esther had captured the unforgiving landscape herself. 

“ Hello. I am Dr. Spencer Reid, you must be the new intern.” A voice rang out from behind her, startling her as she spun in her chair to face whoever walked up behind her. 

“ Esther Ashford.” She muttered, offering to shake the man's hand —  who happened to be the man who caught her eye previously.

“The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss.” The Doctor proclaimed, causing Esther to blink and slowly retreat her hand back.

“Right. For the record I am not kissing you.” Esther said, albeit a little awkward. Spencer, on the other hand, looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“ I- I wasn’t suggesting that! I was merely stating a fact.” Spencer squeaked out as his grip on his case file tightened. Her attention was no longer on the awkward turn the conversation had, but rather the case files in his hand. 

A case? Esther couldn’t help the slight bundle of nerves that found its way in her stomach but she was prepared. She had to be. No matter the gore, or gruesome photos she was sure she was about to see. 

 "Never underestimate the power you have to take your life in a new direction" - Germany Kent