#geniusreader

"Hotch, you need to see this."

There was a part of him that thought he knew what he was walking into. They'd just rescued a victim from an unsub that took quite a while to track. So when they got there and the man was already subdued, unconscious on the ground, Hotch was relieved.

Through their survey of the woman's house, it became apparent that this wasn't a normal freelance photographer. The many papers and maps of the DC district caught him off guard. His eyes ran over the stickers placed expertly on all the locations of the previous murders. All leading up to your house.

"We need to get her back to quantico."

It's obvious now that there are a few things he needs answered.

~Quantico~

When they seat you in the interrogation room. Your face remains neutral. You can't say you didn't see this coming.

"Aren't you going to ask for a phone call?"

"I think the first sign of guilt is rushing to get my attorney Agent Morgan." He smiled, turning his eyes to the glass behind him.

"Good call."

No one told you why you were brought here. You had an inkling feeling you knew why though. The actual killer was probably locked up. So that could only mean one thing.

"They found the maps."

You were so sure you had this under wraps. When someone else entered, your form straightened. He oozed authority. His gait, stature, eyes. Everything about him just emitted leadership.

"My name is Aaron Hotchner. I'm the Unit Chief of this department." He brushed his tie, taking a seat. He dropped the file case onto the table, opening the folder. You swallowed.

"Why am I here?" You need to keep your voice level.

"How did you know Mr. Keller would be at your house?"

You were right.

"I saw the news. Figured I was better safe than sorry."

"There was no way to know he'd come after you specifically."

"Life is unpredictable. I was prepared. "

"I noticed the other markings in your maps. You seem to have a strange hobby."

"What can I say, maps intrigue me."

"It says here that you live alone. No family or spouse."

"Is there a question in there somewhere Agent Hotchner."

Morgan observed the interaction carefully.

"You don't seem very concerned about your position." Hotch stated

"I'm innocent. What do I have to be concerned about? You came in here and intentionally stated your name and position. A tactic used to disarm and intimidate. Your agent here was being overly friendly, building a rapport with me in hopes that I would lower my guard and unintentionally spill some kind of information on the case. Except I'm not some crazed fan, or killer. So you can drop the act. "

Morgan couldn't hide his surprise. When you realized all that you said, you pulled your hands off the table. Hotch studied the action. Your hands were now laying in your lap defensively.

On the other side of the glass Reid, Prentiss and Rossi were conversing.

"Did you see that kid?" Reid nods.

"She profiled him." Reid mutters in awe. The buzzing of Reid's phone made him look away. He answered.

"Hey Garcia."

"Hi, so I did a deep dive on your little photographer. For the most part it's pretty normal. On social media there's shots of all the gigs she's done. Her work is pretty popular. Bank accounts are average. No strange transactions. Aside from her love for fantasy romance novels online, there's nothing that even significantly suggests serial killer. "

"Why do I feel like there's a but coming?"

"Ever the genius. But! Three years ago she was involved in a shooting. She was shot point blank in a bank heist. Reid, it says here that she saved a child. Eight year old Shelly Combs. The doctors called her recovery miraculous. From what I can tell, she's a hero. After that is where it gets a bit strange."

"Strange how."

"Well I'm reading some of her online activities. Before the accident there was very little information on any kind of brain teasers. But five months ago that increased. There's these mini tournaments they hold. You basically create names and compete. It helps you interact with people all around the world. The challenges range from historical events, to math, to psychology. Just about any kind of intellectual challenge. Reid, from what I'm seeing here-"

"She's a genius..." He muttered.

"Bingo."

"Thank you Garcia."

"Anytime!"

Reid hung up the phone, and Rossi turned.

"Good news."

"I think I figured out why she had those maps." He didn't say much more, just headed for the door. Both Hotch and Morgan turned upon his entrance. The door closed and Reid approached.

"What day were you born? "

You narrowed your eyes.

"You have the files, why are you asking me?"

"I think you know."

Hotch caught the brief look of uncertainty cross your eyes.

"March 24th, 1982. 12:25pm. Saint Bonaventure Hospital. San Jose, California. "

"How many lakes are there in Texas?"

"Seven Thousand and Three. "

"How many are natural?"

"Only one has been recorded as a natural lake. Caddo. Located in East Texas. "

"How many bones are there in the body?"

"Two Hundred and Six. Four in the leg, twenty-seven in the hands, twenty six in the foot-" You stopped yourself, exhaling heavily. When you reached to press a hand to your temple, Reid concluded his study. They'd gotten it all wrong.

"Hotch, you can let her go. She's not an unsub."

They were a little confused when Reid walked in spouting random facts, but when you started answering, it all became clear.

"You were in a shooting, that's why you still get migraines. " You frowned. This was what you had been trying so hard to avoid.

"They were right about you. Spencer Reid. The youngest to join the FBI. A genius."

"I could say the same about you."

"I'm not a genius." The insinuation alone seemed to agitate you.

"A bullet went through my head. Straight into the frontal lobe. For most people that guarantees death, but I got dumb headaches and a brain that now needs constant information to stay active. You must be pretty proud of yourself."

They realized that the topic wasn't exactly one you wanted to have.

"You were tracking the unsub, trying to solve the case." When he saw your hand ball into a fist, he knew he'd hit the mark.

"I was too late. When I saw the first body I tried triangulating the others. I had an estimate for the other two women, but when I called the precinct I kept getting denied. They thought I was another person looking for fame. The last one is where I spotted the pattern. How ironic that it led right back to me. It felt justified. Why should I live when two innocent people who didn't stand a chance lost their lives. It wasn't fair."

There was regret and shame in your eyes. All of which they could all relate too. There was very little Hotch could say that would give you a piece of mind. So he decided right then, why not give you a reason, something to help you move on.

"If you were given the chance, would you help people?"

Your eyes darted up. There's a bit of hesitance, he can see that. But also hope.

"I..." You gulp.

"I'd like to try."

That was all he needed to hear.

~~~~

"So you're just like our boy wonder." Garcia was currently probing you for information. While you kept adjusting your blazer.

"Not exactly. I don't have any qualifications to be an actual agent. So I'm consulting. I've applied to start my studies in Criminology."

"But you are smart."

The statement pauses your constant fidgeting.

"I'm not." Your eyes move to Reid. He's filling out a crossword. Your eyes mark each movement.

"He'll be done in five seconds." Garcia scoffs.

"There's no way you can know that he'll be-"

"Done." Reid states, placing the paper down. When Garcia gapes at Reid, he raises a brow.

"What." Reid asks.

"It's nothing." You head for the bathroom.

You feel a bit annoyed. It was wrong of you to get riled up over this. But everytime they compared you to Reid, it felt like an insult to him. He was special. You weren't. A part of you knows you really have no place in the BAU. But you wanted to help. Regardless of your insecurities. You never even made it to the bathroom. You were just standing at the side, staring at the images of respected agents. Ironic this is where you ended up.

"Are you regretting your decision?" Hotch's voice pulls you out of your little pity party.

"I don't regret it. I just feel like I'm in high school again trying to prove I belong. "

"You have nothing to prove. I asked you to come."

"I know."

"Then you know you're capable of a lot. I didn't ask you here so you can compare yourself to anyone. I want your insight. You'll be a part of this team."

He's right. All he expected was what he already knew you were capable of. But it doesn't stop you from worrying. That at some point you'll fall short, and that will cost someone their life. So you banish the thought from your mind. For now, maybe you just have to focus on what you can control.

"What's the case?"

He just sends you a smile, and you fight back one of your own as you head to the table with the rest of the team.

~

As the weeks fly by, you find yourself becoming more comfortable with the team. Your very first case was a bit gruesome.

Decapitation.

The profile has led you to believe that whoever this is, he's not reliving some traumatic childhood memory. He enjoys this. The pain it causes not just his victims, but the family. That's why when they were about to confront the unsub, you weren't in the field. You didn't have the training to be out there with them. They'd told you to stay at the station while they went through the list Garcia compiled of possible suspects.

So you wait.

But sitting around in that building was making you anxious. They've been gone for a while, yet still no word. All you'd done was step out of the precinct for a few minutes to get some air clear your head.

"Sir, right now we're working to find the man responsible. There's nothing else we can do, please go home." From the exasperated tone of the officer, you know this man has probably visited multiple times. It's understandable.

"Sir."

The older man turns to you, and you mean to walk over and comfort, but something about his body language is off. You aren't sure why, but you mentally go over the profile in your head.

"He may be unsuspecting. There's a good chance he'll insert himself into the investigation. A concerned relative, even a reporter."

Swallowing, you do your best to school your features.

"Is there something I can help you with?" You hope your voice isn't too shaky.

"It's just my daughter, she was taken by that monster."

His sadness lacks the usual markers you spot from a person that grieves. You take a small step back. There's no way for you to run without him picking up on it. You're scared.

"Can you help me?" He takes a step forward.

"I-I'll talk to one of the officers. Just stay right there." You try to move back, but he pulls out a gun. Someone screams, and others scramble from in front of the station. You know cops will begin rushing out in the matter of seconds. If it comes down to it, he'd start shooting recklessly. His plan was to go down with as many people as he can. Without thinking you jump at him. He doesn't anticipate it, neither do you. Both your bodies tumble, and a shot goes off.

The bullet has struck your shoulder, but the gun is out of his reach.

"GET DOWN!!"

The yell of many officers echo, and you keep your head pressed to the floor. Your attacker isn't as obedient. He jumps upright, charging at them, and a number of bullets resound in the area. You just stare as he falls like a tree right in front of you. He's merely a few inches away, and his face is directly in front of you, eyes wide, body unmoving. Your entire body is shaking. Whether from shock, or fear, you don't know. Even when an officer rushes to help you to your feet, you don't really move. Those eyes seem engraved in your mind. They carry you away, and all you can do is wait for the team.

~~~

"Thankfully the bullet went directly through. We're keeping her overnight for observation, but she'll be cleared to leave tomorrow. I'd suggest she take time off to get fully healed. "

"Thank you."

Hotch shakes the man's hand as he walks away. When Hotch turns back, they all seem to rise from their seats.

"They're going to keep her overnight, but she's fine. " Garcia exhales, and Morgan rubs her shoulder. Everyone looks more relaxed.

"You all should get some rest. We had a tough case. I'm going to see her."

For the most part they seem reluctant, but there's a subtle look of guilt in Hotch's eyes. He blames himself. Rossi gives his shoulder a squeeze.

"Get some rest yourself Aaron." He nods, and they disperse. Hotch watches them exit, turning back to head down the hallway. When he turns a corner, he knocks on the door before him as he enters.

Your head lifts, and you smile.

"HOTCH!"

Your tone is loud and peppy. You press your fingers to your lips as he closes the door.

"Shhhhh! Don't be so loud."

He stifles a laugh. It's obvious that you were high on painkillers.

"What did they give you?" He asks to take a seat.

"Morrrrphineeeee." You grin.

"It seems you have a very low tolerance."

"Yep!! Runs in the family." You basically sing.

He leans back in the chair, and you look at him.

"Why so sad?"

You push out your lips, and he wishes he had a camera to record this behavior. Because when you came to, he was sure you wouldn't believe a word. His eyes run over your body. The bandages on your shoulder trigger his guilt.

"I'm the reason you got hurt. I brought you into this. I left you unprotected."

"It's not your fault Hotchy. You're a good boss. You gave me a job!! Now I fight crime like a hero. We're like Batman and Robin." You whisper the last part like it's a secret.

"Thank you for looking out for me Batman." Your head presses back into the pillow, and Hotch can't help but feel relieved that it all worked out. It appears you're drifting off to sleep. He just reaches over, gently taking your hand, and you squeeze it softly.

"Thanks Hotchy.." You murmur.