[5.2; 5.3]

"are you planning on committing tax fraud"

Florence was buzzing with excitement for Hotch's first day back at work. He had been gone for a whole month to recover from Foyet's attack. While she had called several times to check-in, she hadn't seen him in person.

The night before he came back, Reggie and Julie came over and helped Florence make cupcakes. They had tried to make them a pretty purple color, but they ended up turning brown, so they slathered on a ton of icing to cover up their mistake. They spelled out "Welcome Back Hopscotch" on them, but Reggie ended up getting hungry and ate the B cupcake. Then they had no choice but to eat the A, C, and K ones.

When Florence got to work, she left the cupcakes in the briefing room. She gave everyone strict instructions not to eat them until Hotch arrived. Prentiss was supposed to be driving Hotch to work, and they were coming in later than normal, so it would be a while before they could eat them.

Hotch had already mentally prepared himself for the attention he would receive for returning to work. Prentiss had assured him on the drive there that Florence was forbidden from dramatically hugging Hotch — he was fully healed, but they convinced her that a tight hug could hurt him. He was itching to get back to work, so he didn't care how the team treated him. Soon, they'd get a case and everything would go back to normal.

However, when he walked into the bullpen, he wasn't met with excited welcome backs and Florence running up to him — not that he wanted that or anything. Definitely not.

Instead of any of that, there was a commotion going on. Everyone in the team was in the bullpen, sitting or standing around all the desks, and looking quite amused. Their eyes were locked onto Florence and Morgan, who weren't quite yelling at each other, but they weren't quiet either.

"It's not that big of a deal," Morgan told her.

"Not that big of a deal?" Florence asked, scoffing. "You make fun of me all the time for my Capri Suns and then you go and do this?"

"You drink too many of them anyway!"

"Honestly, Derek, you should be ashamed," Rossi piped up, smirking. Morgan cut his eyes to him, not appreciating him taking Florence's side.

"In Morgan's defense, it's surprising that she even noticed," Reid stated.

"How would I not notice?" she asked, glaring at him.

"What's going on?" Hotch asked.
In the back of their minds, they all registered that Hotch was back at work, but they wanted to see how the argument played out.

"Over the last week, Morgan stole eight of my Capri Suns and didn't tell me," Florence said, crossing her arms.

"And they were delicious," Morgan said, smirking.

"I demand retribution," Florence muttered lowly.

Hotch sighed. "Florence, you're almost twenty and you're arguing about Capri Suns."

"Hotch, either he apologizes or I fight him, and my fists are already up," she declared.

"I for one would love to see that," Prentiss said, grinning.

"Florence, you're not going to fight him," Hotch said, rolling his eyes. "And Morgan, apologize and replace her Capri Suns."

Both Florence and Morgan grumbled, not pleased with the compromise. They stared each other down for several moments before giving in and each muttering "fine" under their breath.

"Happy first day back," Rossi said, grinning and patting Hotch on the back. "Maybe now that you're back, that'll stop."

"With you gone, she's been spending most of her time with Derek," Prentiss added. "He picks on her like an older brother and she annoys him like a little sister. We have way too much fun watching to make them stop."

After Morgan handed Florence ten dollars to cover the drinks, she skipped over to Hotch with a big grin on her face. "Welcome back, Hopscotch! I missed you so much and there are cupcakes made from scratch in the briefing room."

"Thank you, Florence," he said. Then he tilted his head and gave her a doubtful look. "From scratch?"

Florence puffed out her cheeks then sighed. "Fine, from a box mix."

Before she could drag him to the briefing room for the cupcakes, JJ rushed out of her office. She announced that they were needed in Louisville and that they would need to brief on the plane. So, Florence bid them goodbye and good luck before joining Garcia in their office to get started with looking up the unsub. Once on the plane, they video-called Florence and Garcia.

"So, our point person in Louisville is Lieutenant Kevin Mitchell," JJ told them.

Hotch was the last to board the plane, and now that Morgan and Florence weren't distracted by him, they watched him carefully.

"You look well, sir," Garcia told him gently.

"Thank you. How long do you have that?" Hotch asked, pointing to the knee brace and crutches that Reid had been sporting since he got shot.

"I'm not really sure," he admitted. "Welcome back."

"Thank you," Hotch said. "Any other attacks?"

"Um, no, not yet," Prentiss told him.

"Call's proven hard to track," Reid added. "He's never had a driver's license, so he's most likely still on foot."

"Or public transportation," JJ added.

"He's not gonna take the bus. His face is everywhere," Prentiss said.

"Has anyone found a stressor?"

"He just lost his job," Garcia spoke up. "He's worked at a factory since 1990. Made appliances since forever and not a single promotion."

"That's a long time to be bitter," Morgan said.

"Or he doesn't care," Reid suggested.

JJ shook her head. "Not if he's got a family to feed."

"Actually, homeboy is a bit of a hermit," Florence told them. Morgan saw her sipping on a Capri Sun and rolled his eyes. "No wife, kids, or parents."

"Nothing to live for," Morgan said.

"So why hasn't he killed himself yet?" Hotch asked. "Sprees usually end in suicide. If he's got nothing to live for, why hasn't he ended it?"

"Because he isn't finished yet. We know he has displaced anger. He took it out on the first victim," Reid said.

"Well, the stock boy represents someone. We need to know who. Is he military?" Hotch asked.

"Negative," Garcia replied.

"Well, he's lashing out for a reason. This guy's got anger, endless targets, and a gun, And he's just getting started."

Once the team landed, they split up between the police station and the pharmacy where the attack was at. Garcia and Florence were still going through their standard background checks when Hotch called them.

"Garcia, he's been off his antipsychotic for a month," he said as soon as she picked up. He sounded very angry. "What else did you two miss?"

Garcia's mouth fell open and she shared a shocked look with Florence. She quickly started to dig up his medical records while Garcia explained themselves. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't get his medical records yet, so—"

"Well, find them. Find everything."

"Yes—" He had already hung up on her. "—Sir."

They quickly found all his medical records, including past medications and the psychiatrist who prescribed the antipsychotics to him. Shortly after they got the information to Hotch, Rossi called to ask about Call's doctor, who Hotch and Morgan were already on the way to see.

While they did that, Florence went back over Call's past and found a hitch. They tried to call Hotch, but he never picked up, so they settled for Morgan.

"Yeah, Baby Girl, what's going on?" he asked.

"Where's Hotch? He's not answering," Garcia said.

"He's outside. He's all right," he assured him.

"Are you sure?" Florence asked.

"Yeah. What's up?"

"A mystery," Garcia told him.

Morgan sighed. "Come on, not today, Garcia."

"I know," she said, pouting. "Here's the deal. When I missed the antipsychotics—"

"Listen to me," Morgan cut her off. "That was not your fault."

"You are ever my champion, sugar, but I believe it was," Garcia told him. "Anyway, when I did that, we went back to the beginning for Call, except there is no beginning."

"Wait a minute," Morgan said, putting the phone on speaker. "Rossi. Say that again. What are you talking about?"

"Darrin Call didn't exist, like, from 1969 to 1975," Florence explained. "There's no birth certificate, no social security, no identity, nothing until he was six years old."

"Was he abandoned?" Morgan asked.

"My least three favorite words strung together," Garcia muttered. "We don't know."

"My guess is neither does he."

Rossi went to gather the rest of the team so they could cover the new information about Call. They covered everything from the time he was found in 1975 — he didn't talk for a year, only ever knew his name, he left Louisville three times in his life but always returned to the same ten-block radius, and he had been hospitalized twice in his life, as well as a list of all his prescriptions and when they were started. Now they needed to try and find out what happened in the first six years of Call's life.

"Records from child services have him as extremely physically abused," JJ said. "No signs of sexual assault."

"That's a miracle," Garcia said, sighing.

"Either way, the trauma was debilitating," Reid said.

"Was he running from an abusive home or an abduction?" Rossi asked.

"Wouldn't there be a paper trail if it were a kidnapping?" Lieutenant Mitchell asked.

"Garcia, look for unsolved missing children's cases from the 1970s," Hotch ordered. They quickly got to typing, not wanting to piss him off even more.

"Now, there was a case in Hollow Creek," Mitchell told them. "Kids were dead, though. Found them in pieces."

"When was this?"

"'75. Nobody talks about it 'cause they never found the guy. You think Call walked away from there?" he asked.

"It's possible. Garcia—"

"Already sent," Florence interrupted. She had pulled the case up as soon as Mitchell brought it up.

"Can you find the case file?" Hotch asked Mitchell.

"I'll do what I can."

Soon, Lieutenant Mitchell came back with the boxes containing the case file and the team started to sort through it. Shortly after, they got another call from Hotch.

"Garcia, everything you can find on a Tommy Phillips."

"You'll have it in minutes, Sir," she said, and then he hung up.

While they searched, Call ended up going to his old orphanage. There, he kidnapped a young boy and drove off. While the team kept trying to figure out Call's past to find out where he could be going, Garcia and Florence found Tommy Phillips. They immediately called Hotch to fill them in.

"Go ahead, Garcia. You're on speaker," he said.

"We found Tommy. He goes by James Thomas Anderson now."

"Is he local?"

"One county over. Florence just sent you all the address and bio."

"Thanks, Garica, Florence."

Once he hung up, Florence leaned back in her chair. "At least he said thank you that time. Maybe he's calming down."

"Don't jinx it," Garcia muttered under her breath.

Hotch and Prentiss went to visit Tommy, and they found out that Call's father had been the Hollow Creek Killer. That was why no one ever claimed him when he ran away. Morgan called Garcia and got them to search death records for Call's mother to try and track her back to his father. That was where he was headed with the kid he took. Garcia quickly linked the father and pulled up his lengthy police record. She also sent his address.

The team rushed to stop Call. They did manage to apprehend him and save the boy, however, Call did shoot his father. The only catch was that Hotch had stormed into the house alone, without his vest and gun. It was a reckless move and it worried everyone on the team as well as made them wonder if he was fit to be back in the field.

Nevertheless, the case was over. Once everyone got back to Quantico, Florence met them at the elevator, rocking back and forth on her feet.

"I know you all have a lot of paperwork to get started on, but nothing like a good homemade cupcake to perk you guys up," she said, leading them to the briefing room.

They all followed, knowing they could use a cupcake. Florence gestured to them with jazz hands once they were all in the room. Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss couldn't help but laugh when they saw them. The cupcakes were decorated very poorly, with way too much icing on top. That wasn't what made them laugh though.

"Welc Hopscot?" Hotch read off the cupcakes, tilting his head to see them better.

Florence smiled sheepishly. "I got a little hungry. Not my fault you got rushed to a case as soon as you got back."

Everyone got their cupcake and filed out of their room to start filing everything. Hotch stayed back. He didn't take a cupcake — but he'd take one home — and instead watched as Florence shoved one whole in her mouth, icing and all. After she chewed it all, she licked the rest off her lips. Hotch decided not to tell her that she had a glob of blue icing on her nose that she had missed.

"Thank you for the cupcakes, Florence," he told her.

"No problem," she said, shrugging. Then she looked down at the floor. "Hotch, how are you?"

He sighed. "I know that I was a bit cross with you and Garcia, and I aplogi—"

"You do not have to apologize," she said, cutting him off. "I can't imagine what it feels like to go through what you are going through. So, if you need to yell at me to feel better, then do it. You're not going to hurt my feelings."

"Still," he said, frowning. "I shouldn't have snapped at you and the rest of the team."

"We all understand," she said. "If you ever want to talk about it, I'm always here. And I won't profile you like any of the others."

"I appreciate that."

"Alrighty. I'm gonna go knock out my case report. Reggie's gonna bring Chinese food over for dinner since the case ended."

"You two have fun," he told her.

"Will do. Glad to have you back, Hopscotch," she said. Florence grabbed another cupcake and shoved it in her mouth as she left him alone in the briefing room.

|||

A few days later Hotch was in Florence and Garcia's office with Sam Kassmeyer, who had been assigned to Haley and Jack in the Witness Protection Program. Garcia had pulled up a live feed of Jack in the park, and they watched as he played on the swing set.

"Any closer and the image will distort," Garcia told Hotch.

"How is Jack?" he asked Kassmeyer.

"He's real smart. Had us in tears. Great kid."

"Except he doesn't like Iron Man," Florence muttered under her breath.

"Haley?" Hotch asked.

Kassmeyer sighed. "To be honest, we're moving them to a halfway house."

Hotch turned to look at him. "I thought you had found a permanent location."

"Haley made a number of phone calls to her mother. It's all good, but to be safe, we have to move them," he explained.

"Sam, thank you," Hotch said, shaking his hand.

"I promise you, No harm will come to them. You just concentrate on getting Foyet."

Once Kassmeyer left, Hotch turned back to the screen. Haley had gotten Jack off the screen and they started to leave the park. "Happy birthday, buddy," Hotch whispered.

"Hey," Florence said, getting his attention. "So, I went into the WP database and triple encrypted Haley and Jack's case with a DES algorithm. That way, Foyet can't pull what I did last year on the Jack Vaughn case and find out where they are. There's not much I can do as long as he stays off the grid, but I can do that."

"Thank you, Florence," he said, nodding at her.

"Oh, also," she said, perking up. She grabbed a wrapped present from under her desk. "I got Jack a birthday present. So, when we catch Foyet, you and Jack can have a sick Nerf gun battle. I would like to be invited as well."

|||

Instead of getting to go home, JJ called everyone in the briefing room for a late-night case. Florence didn't complain though, seeing as it was raining, and she always hated skating home in the rain. This case also seemed to be in Rossi's old home town.

"What have we got?" Hotch asked as JJ got started.

"Ben Vanderwaal was killed in Commack, Long Island, last night. Shot at close range, once in the heart, once in the head, .22 caliber shell."

"They found hair and blood traces From Ben Vanderwaal's wife Heather," Morgan said, reading off the file.

"But not Heather?" Rossi asked.

"No, she's still missing, presumed dead," JJ replied. "The caliber and placement of the bullets match that of two previous victims. The first, Rita Haslat. Eight months ago she went missing from her home in New Jersey. Four weeks later, she was found in a trash bin."

"She went from that to this in under three weeks?" Prentiss asked, looking at the photos. "She's totally emaciated."

"Ligature marks on her wrists and ankles Indicate she was constrained," Reid noted.

"One in the heart, one in the head. Same as Vanderwaal," Morgan said.

"Sounds more like an execution," Hotch stated.

"Then why cut off Vanderwaal's hands postmortem?" Reid asked.

"What about the third victim?" Rossi asked.

"Bill Levington. His appearance was certainly altered," JJ muttered.

"His genitals were missing," Prentiss saw in the file.

"Fun," Florence mumbled under her breath. Garcia heard and nudged her to stay quiet.

"Though the method of mutilation is different in each crime, clearly there's a signature," Hotch said. "The question is, what? Wheels-up in twenty."

As he got up, Hotch threw a file on the table in front of Reid. "What's this?"

"You told me you were cleared to travel. You lied."

"Naughty boy," Prentiss teased.

"Uh, no, I didn't. I am a doctor, so technically, it wasn't a lie," Reid said, trying to defend himself.

"Ooh, then what would you call it?" Florence asked, grinning.

"Um...second opinion."

Garcia smiled mischievously at him. "Hmm, you're my bitch now."

Morgan laughed at Reid's predicament before leaving for the plane. While Reid got up with his crutches, Florence offered to carry his files to the tech center. Garcia went ahead to get started on the background checks.

"I hope Hotch makes you take the ethics class for lying to him," Florence told him.

"Somehow, I don't think it's quite a big of a deal as when you broke into the Witness Protection Program's database and uncovered redacted files related to a very important murder investigation," Reid said, giving her an amused smile.

"Maybe so," she said, shrugging. "But you could've gotten seriously hurt — well, more seriously hurt than you already are. Though, Garcia may kill you if you get on her nerves too much."

"I think I can handle her."

Florence smiled to herself, knowing that wasn't true. While she and Garcia had gotten along really well when she first started working for the BAU, it definitely still took several weeks for Florence and her to become the well-oiled tech duo they were today. Garcia had to get used to sharing her space and Florence had to get used to being on a team and having to communicate with them as she worked. Now, they were adding Reid to the mix, and it would surely be amusing to watch.

Right from the bat, Reid was getting on Garcia's nerves. As they worked on the background checks, he constantly messed with the stuff around the office and tried to intervene. She hadn't said anything to him out loud, but Florence knew Garcia would snap eventually.

After they looked into Heather Vanderwaal's past, Garcia called JJ, who was in the middle of interviewing her. "Garcia?"

"We've been getting to know Heather Vanderwaal," she said while snatching one of her stuffed animals from Reid, who was playing with it. "I can't tell you her favorite Beatle, but I can tell you she was living la Vida unhappy."

"What did you find?" JJ asked.

"Her ex-husband took her daughter Allison out of school mid-term," Reid told her. "After that, Heather cut a check for five thousand dollars to a place called Lewis, Bell, & Peters six days ago."

"Law firm?"

"Family law," Florence clarified.

"Thanks," JJ said before hanging up.

The three of them kept looking into everyone's past. While they did that, the team figured out that the unsub was likely a hitman of some kind, and Rossi also got some help from his friends in the mob — Florence was definitely gonna ask him about that later. When it was time for them to all look over the case again, they video-called Florence, Garcia, and Reid.

"The removal of the hands is as specific as Rita Haslat's condition was when she was found," Morgan said, pointing to the mutilated images on their board.

"Just as specific as the removal of Bill Levington's genitals," Prentiss added.

"There's a message in the mutilations the unsub wants us to know," Hotch said.

"I got something here that might help us with—"

"Technically, we have something here that might help with that," Reid said, cutting Garcia off.

Garcia looked at him, clearly annoyed, before continuing her statement. "Bill Levington was involved in a serial rape case. All involving minors, and it never went to trial."

"Rita Haslat?" Hotch asked.

"A former—"

"A formal social worker," Reid said at the same time. He continued to talk over Garcia, who stared at him with an open mouth. The others could see Florence in the back of the video trying not to laugh. "Attained said former status when she was fired from the DCFS for gross negligence. In one of her cases, a seven-year-old boy starved to death."

"Which explains why Haslat was so emaciated when she was found," Prentiss said.

"If all the victims were indicated in crimes against children, then we've found a connection," Morgan realized.

"One of the unsubs has access to the crimes of the victims and probably works in the justice system," Hotch said. "Garcia?"

"On it." Garcia and Reid had spoken at the same time. They started to bicker, so Florence reached over and turned the video camera off.

"Is your name Garcia?" she asked him, narrowing her eyes. Florence giggled, thinking she sounded like an angry parent.

"No," Reid mumbled under his breath.

Later that night, Rossi's mob friend, Finnegan, had agreed to help them ambush the hitman known as Bosola. He was waiting in some restaurant while the team was waiting outside. Garcia, Reid, and Florence were linked into their coms system so they knew what was going on. After some time, Finnegan called Rossi, which put them all on edge, hoping something hadn't gone wrong.

"Why are you calling? You ok?" Rossi asked him.

"I hope you got some good guys out there. This man is a mean son of a bitch," Finnegan said.

"We're all over. He's not gonna know what hit him," Rossi assured him.

"Hey, that kid — the, uh, smart one. I could use a little help."

"That's me. He's talking about me," Reid whispered, grinning proudly. Florence chuckled and pat him on the shoulder.

"Reid?" Rossi called.

"Reid here," he answered, smiling. Garcia scoffed quietly and rolled her eyes.

"Crossword question. Ten letters. Crater creator," Finnegan asked.

"Ten letters. Crater creator," Reid repeated. He thought for a moment, but it didn't come to him immediately.

"Arctangent," Garcia answered quickly.

"Did you get that?" Rossi asked.

"Damn, she's smart," Finnegan said before hanging up.

Garcia smiled smugly at Reid, who did his best to not look upset at the fact that she had guessed it instead of him. There wasn't much time for her to bask in the glory though, because it turned out that Bosola was already at the restaurant. He shot Finnegan and escaped before the team could catch him.

With the help of Rossi, they figured out that a local Judge Schuller had likely hired Bosola to commit the murders. Before they could even track him down, she showed up at the police station. While he was being interrogated, Prentiss talked with Reid, Garcia, and Florence to find out all they could about him.

"Oh-oh, we've got gobs of two-way traffic going on, which means someone is trying to bounce us out," Garcia told her, typing quickly to stay in the system.

"Ok, Bosola didn't come cheap, so Judge Schuller had to have made some pretty substantial transactions," Prentiss told them.

"Um, wire transfers to the Cayman Islands, which we all know is sketchy as hell," Florence said, shaking her head. "Trace ends there."

"How many? How much?" Prentiss asked.

"June, he debits numerations of nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars every few days. Total of four. He takes a break for a few weeks until he makes his final transaction for the same magic number," Garcia told her.

"Anything less than ten thousand dollars keeps the IRS off your trail," Reid added.

"I know that, too," Garcia insisted.

"I didn't," Florence said brightly. "I'll keep it in mind."

"Are you planning to commit tax fraud, Ren?" Reid asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know. I don't plan my life that far in advance." She shrugged and opened a fresh Capri Sun. When Reid saw it, he asked for one of his own.

"So, the final payment must be for proof of death," Prentiss said, focusing back on the case. "That makes fifty thousand dollars the price of a kill."

"He did that three times over a period of twelve months," Garcia told her. "But two days ago, he raided his account for one hundred thousand dollars all in one hit."

"He also closed all his accounts and handed his entire estate over to a victims support group," Reid added.

Suddenly all their windows closed down and an access denied sign flashed on the screen. "Someone who isn't suffering from too many brainiacs in the high-tech kitchen just bounced us out," Garcia said, frowning.

"Ooh, I'm gonna bounce right the fuck back in," Florence said, swapping seats with Garcia.

"Good job. Thanks, guys," Prentiss told them, before getting up to tell the others.

They didn't really need to get back into Schuller's bank account, but Florence didn't have anything else to do. Reid and Garcia sat back and watched as she broke down the security system. Once she was in, she was able to see the rest of his transactions. They didn't really help the case, which was almost solved, but she had fun snooping.

"Hey, do you guys just wanna look at random people's accounts and see what sketchy things they're doing?" she asked, looking at them over her shoulder.

"Ren, that's illegal," Reid reminded her.

She scoffed and leaned back in her chair. "I mean, they're probably doing more illegal stuff with their Cayman Islands money."

"More illegal doesn't make what you do less illegal," Garcia said, shaking her head. Then she leaned over and removed Florence from the system. "Try it again, and I'll have Hotch look into more thorough ethics training seminars. Maybe even an in-person one."

Florence grumbled and sunk down lower in her chair. "You're just no fun."

|||

Once the case was over, Reid got to return to his desk. Garcia was happy to have him gone. When everyone got back, Florence made her way to Rossi's office to check on him. It had been a tough case for him since he had to go to his hometown. She knocked on his door and greeted him with a smile.

"How ya holding up, Ro-Ro?" she asked, leaning against the wall.

"I'm alright. Just glad the case is over," he said, sighing.

"Yeah. I know you didn't want to go on it," she said. "Sorry about Finnegan."

He nodded in thanks but didn't say anything else about his deceased friend. "You know, we haven't had a pasta night in a while. Your technique could use some improvement."

Florence grinned excitedly. "Tortellini sounds absolutely delicious. Wanna invite the team or just make it some quality Ren and Ro-Ro time?"

"I'm sick of them," he said, chuckling. "Ren and Ro-Ro time sounds good." Then he thought for a moment. "Hmm, maybe Hotch can come. He could use a night off of focusing on work."

"Oh, then I really gotta step up my game. I have to impress him with my cooking skills."

"I wouldn't really call them cooking skills considering that pasta is the only thing you know how to make, and even then, I do most of the work."

"Okay, but can we at least tell Hotch that I made it all myself? He'll be so proud of me."

"But his proudness will be based on a lie. Are you alright with that?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course, I am."