CHAPTER TWO: EMBARRASSED WOMAN HOPES COWORKERS DIDN'T CATCH HER BASHING FOREHEAD INTO KEYBOARD

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WITH HER ID securely fastened to the breast pocket of her pink long sleeve polo, Beatrice stepped into the formidable realm of the FBI Headquarters. The staccato rhythm of her shoes echoed through the corridor, a confident cadence that matched the determination etched on her face. As she carefully cradled the box of her important belongings, holding it securely against her chest, she carried within it the weight of days filled with relentless questioning and sleepless nights. The aftermath of the New York terror attack had thrust her into a whirlwind of scrutiny.

Adjusting her glasses, the analyst felt a rush of cool air caress her cheeks, offering a momentary respite from the tension that hung in the air. In the distance, she caught a fleeting glimpse of the elevator doors sliding shut, and determined not to let it slip away; she called out to the occupant, beseeching them to hold the elevator for her.

As she reached the elevator, the blonde woman stepped inside, greeted by the faint hum of anticipation. The metallic doors sealed shut and she felt a surge of gratitude toward the man who had held the doors open for her. She turned to him, a sincere smile tugging at the corners of her lips, ready to express her thanks. Yet, as her eyes met his face, a spike of recognition coursed through her veins.

Her gaze locked onto his features, and her mind raced back to the chaotic scene of the New York explosion. He was that man-the enigmatic figure from the BAU team, the only one she hadn't gotten to know.

A mixture of surprise and curiosity washed over the analyst as she realized that their paths had converged once again, this time within the confines of the FBI Headquarters. What were the odds?

"Thank you," Bea murmured, her voice laced with genuine warmth, as the man nodded in acknowledgment. With a newfound proximity, she couldn't resist stealing a glance at him, studying his features from her vantage point. Up close, he exuded an undeniable handsomeness that captivated her attention. There was a charm about him, an allure that drew her in.

As her eyes trailed over him, she couldn't help but notice how he held the folder in his hand, his grip conveying a sense of authority and purpose. It was as if he was accustomed to shouldering responsibility, his every movement radiating confidence and self-assurance. In the chaos of the New York explosion, Beatrice's focus had been solely on stopping the bomb, leaving little room for personal observations or introductions. She hadn't even engaged in idle conversation. But now, with this unexpected encounter, she found herself taking in the details she had missed about him before.

As the elevator continued its ascent, Beatrice stole one last glance, etching the image of the man's captivating presence in her mind.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

"Oh my god, no!" the unexpected sound of his voice jolted Beatrice, causing her to squeak in surprise. A rush of nerves coursed through her, her mind racing to process the situation. As a profiler, he must have noticed her stolen glances, she thought, her stomach tightening with a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

Swallowing hard, Beatrice gathered her composure, her lips pressing together briefly before she found her voice. "I mean, it's just. . . I saw you last week," she managed to say, her words punctuated by a small, nervous chuckle. Despite the unease, she couldn't help but smile brightly, her eyes shining with a mix of astonishment and curiosity. "New York, right? You were there. Well, you were quite bloody and wounded that night."

The blonde swallowed and mustered a sense of enthusiasm. Her smile widened, exuding a mix of excitement and intrigue. "Well, would you look at that, right?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with wonder. "I'm actually heading to the BAU right now. I was told to meet Erin Strauss and Aaron Hotchner."

The woman continued speaking, her words tumbling out in a rush of excitement. "Now I know who Erin Strauss is, but I don't know who Aaron Hotchner is. Maybe you know him?" She turned to him as her tone shifted, adopting a slightly playful and teasing nature as she shared the rumors she had heard. "I heard he is a strict, very serious, very drill sergeant type. Has no sense of humor," she chuckled, her voice tinged with a touch of mischief. "You know, no play, all work kind of guy."

It was then that there was an abrupt change that seized the atmosphere. She felt the weight of the man's scrutinizing gaze upon her, his eyes narrowing as if dissecting her words and intentions. A sense of unease washed over her, mingled with a tinge of guilt as if she had inadvertently crossed a line. The elevator doors parted, and without a word, he strode away, his steps deliberate and measured, leaving behind a void where their conversation had been.

With a furrowed brow, Beatrice pondered the meaning behind his glare and the sudden shift in his demeanor. The abruptness of his departure left her feeling slighted and dismissed, as if her presence and attempts at conversation were inconsequential to him.

Her initial excitement and anticipation turned into a sense of frustration, tinged with a touch of indignation. She couldn't help but feel that his actions were unwarranted and unnecessary, leaving a sour taste in her mouth.

As Bea crossed the threshold into the bullpen, she was greeted by the sight of Derek Morgan, a familiar face from the aftermath of the New York incident.

"Hey, Bea!" Morgan greeted her with affectionate familiarity, his voice infused with warmth. "What you doing here in our department?"

"Well, that's rude." With a steely gaze fixed on the man's retreating figure, Beatrice's frustration simmered, fueling her glare. She watched him ascend the stairs, his actions further solidifying her impression of his rudeness. The intensity of her gaze could have burned holes into his back as her irritation seethed beneath the surface.

"What happened?"

"I just asked that colleague of yours over there if he knew who Aaron Hotchner is," she explained. "I actually described him just as one of my colleagues described him to me yesterday, you know, strict and all that."

"You didn't."

"What? Who's Aaron Hotchner, by the way? Where's your boss?"

Derek's response left no room for doubt as he pointed his finger towards the man who just entered the office. "Beatrice, that is Aaron Hotchner. You just talked to my boss," he revealed, his tone a mixture of astonishment and amusement.

A surge of panic coursed through Beatrice's veins as the gravity of the situation dawned on her. She had unknowingly engaged in a conversation with Aaron Hotchner, the very person she had been seeking to meet. Her attempts at small talk, her description of him as strict and humorless, all directed towards the man who held authority over the BAU unit.

"Oh my god."

"YOU KNOW, WHEN Sebastian called me yesterday to inform me of your reassignment here, I was very confused," explained the older woman across from her, Erin Strauss. Her curly blonde hair framed her face, accentuating her youthful appearance despite being no older than fifty. "He wouldn't tell me the reason why," the section chief voiced, a touch of frustration evident in her tone. "So, enlighten me. Why is the star analyst of the Bureau's Counterintelligence Division being temporarily reassigned here in the BAU? As a data entry clerk. . . and assistant technical analyst?"

"Is it, uh, important?"

"You can see why I'm apprehensive about this, Agent Sterling. You are one of the most accomplished agents in the bureau. Your skills and experiences exceed most agents who are in their tenth year of service. You are currently the SAC and I heard last month, you are on your way to becoming the section chief of your department. So, what changed?" The blonde analyst watched as Erin intertwined her fingers, a gesture of both curiosity and evaluation. "You know that I have to know if you'll be an asset or a liability to this department, if there is anything that will affect your performance here."

With measured resolve, the analyst responded, her voice laced with quiet confidence, "I assure you, Chief Strauss, that my dedication and capabilities will serve as an asset to this department. I am committed to maximizing my potential and contributing wholeheartedly here, and as for the reason why I was transferred here. . ." She swallowed. "I wanted to know more about the division my father started. I never got to do that in my years here in the Bureau. I want to understand him more."

That was partially true. Bea yearned to unravel the layers of her father's life, to bridge the gap that had lingered between them for far too long. She had witnessed the impact of his work, the profound influence he had exerted over the field of behavioral analysis. And now, she sought to step into his world, to walk in his footsteps and, perhaps, discover fragments of his essence that had remained elusive.

"Well, you could have just applied to be part of one of the BAU units. You have the skills to be a profiler." Erin's fingers traced the pages of her file."Weren't you first assigned to this department after graduating from the Academy?"

"Yes, but I'm very much comfortable with computers, Chief."

"How did your team receive the news of your transfer?" As Erin's question lingered, Bea sensed a shift in the atmosphere-an undercurrent of scrutiny. "You are a unit chief, right?"

"Yes, I held the position of unit chief for the last four years," affirmed Bea, her voice measured yet assured. With a subtle upturn of her lips, Beatrice sought to cloak her unease, projecting an air of confidence. Her smile served as a shield, masking the tumult of emotions swirling within her. "When the news of my transfer reached my team, they received it with understanding and support and I, uh, entrusted the leadership to Ethan Harper, an associate who has worked alongside me since the opening of the C3S."

Strauss's intense gaze softened, a subtle shift in her demeanor that mirrored the unspoken approval in her eyes. "Welcome to the Behavioral Analysis Unit, Agent Sterling." As she closed the file, an air of finality enveloped the room, marking the conclusion of their exchange. "You are assigned to the BAU-2 along with Penelope Garcia. Report to Agent Hotchner after this. You will begin today."

Bea's smile remained unwavering as she responded, her voice filled with gratitude. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

AS SHE STOOD before Aaron Hotchner's office, Beatrice's hands trembled as she took rapid steps towards her new boss's office. Her mind buzzed with nervous energy, replaying the fateful elevator encounter over and over. The memory of her clumsiness made her cringe, and she was determined to make amends.

She took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. With her emotions tucked away, she lifted her hand and knocked twice on the door, the sound echoing.

With a hesitant knock, the analyst announced her presence, hoping to catch Aaron's attention. "Come in," a deep voice called from inside, and Bea's heart skipped a beat. She pushed the door open slowly, peeking inside to find her new superior seated at his desk, engrossed in paperwork. His eyes flickered up for a brief moment, acknowledging her presence.

Summoning all her courage, Bea stepped forward, her eyes fixed on Aaron Hotchner. She offered him a bright smile. "Good morning, sir,"

Her new superior pointed to a chair beside his desk, silently indicating for her to take a seat. She obliged, feeling the warmth of the freshly brewed coffee radiating through the cup, offering a small comfort amidst the uneasy atmosphere. Beatrice settled into the chair, crossing her legs and smoothing out her pencil skirt, trying to ease the unease that now hung in the air.

Time seemed to stretch as Beatrice anxiously waited for the conversation to begin. She stole glances at him, hoping to catch his eye. However, he remained engrossed in his work, his attention fixed on the screen before him. The silence between them became palpable, amplifying the nervous beats of her heart.

Beatrice cleared her throat, attempting to break the uncomfortable stillness. She held out a cup of coffee towards the recipient and affixed to the cup was a small, carefully placed sticky note that bore the words, 'I apologize for my behavior earlier, sir.' "I brought you some coffee as, uh, a gift," she managed to say, her voice laced with warmth and genuineness.

Hotchner's gaze flickered briefly towards the cup she settled on his work table, but he offered no verbal response. Instead, he returned his focus to the task at hand, almost as if he had completely forgotten her presence. The weight of his indifference pressed upon Beatrice, leaving her feeling invisible and insignificant.

The minutes stretched on, each passing moment punctuated by the sound of her own breathing and the glide of his ball pen against the paper. Bea cleared her throat, attempting to break the uncomfortable stillness. She mustered up the courage to speak, "Sir, I just want to say sor-"

"I will go straight to my point," Agent Hotchner's voice resonated with a dismissive undertone, cutting through the silence that had enveloped the office. Beatrice's heart sank, the weight of his words crushing her hopeful anticipation. "Sebastian Sterling was my mentor when I first applied to the Academy and here in the BAU before he got promoted," Hotchner continued, his voice laced with a hint of bitterness. "I only approved of your transfer because Strauss and your uncle directly ordered me to approve it. If it were solely up to me, you wouldn't be here."

The words hung heavily in the air, suffocating any trace of warmth that had clung to Beatrice's presence. She pushed her glasses back, an instinctive response to the surge of disappointment coursing through her veins. "May I ask why you hold me in such regard, sir? Is it because of my relation with-"

He set aside his files, his eyes meeting hers with a stern gaze and a flicker of annoyance in his expression. "You were too reckless in New York," he began, his voice tinged with disapproval. "And you had no regard for the life of my subordinate."

"With all due respect, sir," Bea's voice was steady despite the conflict brewing within her. "I didn't ask Derek Morgan to come with me to the parking lot."

Hotchner's gaze hardened, his brows furrowing. "I'm sorry?"

"I was ready to drive that ambulance alone, sir," Bea retorted, her voice tinged with defiance. "I believed in my abilities and the urgency of the situation. I trusted your team to have focused on transporting the President of the United States to a safe place."

"Still, you were reckless. You risked your safety and Agent Morgan's by not informing us of your actions," he asserted, his voice firm and unwavering. "You are a potential liability, Agent Sterling. I don't need that kind of person in my team."

The weight of his words bore down on Bea, the frustration she felt bubbling to the surface. With a hint of sarcasm, she couldn't help but say, "Wow! You sure do know how to welcome new members to your team. You must be fun at parties."

Hotchner's eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. "I don't like your tone, Agent," he stated bluntly, his words carrying an undeniable finality.

Beatrice held his gaze, her resolve unyielding. "Well, SSA Hotchner, I don't like you," she shot back, her voice tinged with defiance. "But I will stay here and do my job to the best of my abilities, so I hope we work together well and in peace. Now, if you'll excuse me, sir, I wish to start doing my job. Digitizing papers."

As she turned to open the door, a moment of introspection washed over her. Bea turned around once again, her demeanor now calm and composed. "I understand your concern and I do acknowledge the importance of teamwork," she responded, her tone measured and steady. "But, I also firmly believe that there are instances when decisive action is necessary, even if it requires deviating from the conventional path. My intention is always to ensure the safety and well-being of both the team I am in and the people we are bound to protect. Now, I sincerely apologize if my actions have offended you, but I stand by what I did in New York."

The analyst didn't even give him time to respond to her statement and left the office, frustration still welling up inside her. Morgan, perhaps seemingly attuned to her expression, blocked her path and presented her box of belongings as an attempt to diffuse the tension. "Whoa, whoa! Slow down, sweetheart," he said, his tone light. "You look like you're ready to punch someone. What's got you so riled up?"

Bea's gaze turned to Hotchner through the window, her indignation evident. Reaffirming her sentiment, she snatched the box of her belongings from his arms and walked away.

"Your boss has a stick up his ass!" she exclaimed, her irritation palpable.

As Bea walked away, she overheard Dave's comment behind her. "Oh, about time things here get interesting," he remarked, his voice accompanied by the sound of him sipping from his cup.

CARRYING HER BOX, Bea knocked twice on the door of Penelope Garcia's office, known as the technical analyst of the BAU-2. Giving two distinct knocks on the door, she slowly opened it, revealing a plump, blonde-haired woman wearing glasses, charming pigtails, and an ensemble entirely colored in pink. From her dress to her accessories, every article of clothing embraced the vibrant hue.

Penelope's eyes sparkled with warmth and innocence, a stark contrast to Hotchner's earlier demeanor. It immediately melted Bea's apprehension, making her feel genuinely welcomed. Penelope's lips curled into a bright smile that reached her eyes, exuding a sense of reverence. As Bea surveyed the office, filled with multiple computers, a wave of happiness washed over her, knowing she had found a place where she could thrive.

"I still can't believe the Beatrice Sterling is standing inside my office!" Penelope exclaimed, her hands clapping together in sheer delight. "Not everyone gets to see their hero everyday."

Bea smiled. "You know who I am?"

"Who doesn't? Well, you're very much well-known in the hacking community." Penelope lifted her hand for a shake. "Penelope Garcia-"

"Ah, yeah! I remember you!" Beatrice recalled, a grin forming on her face as she returned the gesture and tried to find her desk which she deduced was the one beside the door. She vividly remembered seeing Penelope's name in one of the FBI's lists, which focused on a small group of exceptionally talented yet dangerous hackers in the world. "I actually wanted to hire you into the Cyber Division, but I was on my way to Iraq, and the BAU snatched you away before I could make the call." The woman shrugged. "I'm Beatrice Sterling or, well. . ."

"Yellowjacket. I know your hacker name," Garcia replied, her voice filled with a mix of astonishment and genuine excitement. "I just have to say, I am a big fan of how you took down Kevin Mitnick in 1995."

Emily and Dr. Reid emerged from the doorway, smiling wide, as they brought snacks. "Yellowjacket? That's your hacker name?" the female profiler asked.

Garcia chimed in, providing an explanation with a playful tone. "Well, they say her cyber attacks are like bee stings. They hurt a lot."

Dr. Reid, his hands comfortably tucked inside his pockets, interjected, "Actually, yellowjackets only attack if their nest is disturbed or they feel threatened. All female yellow jackets sting, and they tend to be more aggressive than other stinging insects." He paused briefly before adding, "They are considered a danger, really, because they sting repeatedly and can trigger dangerous allergic reactions. In fact, these insects send over five hundred thousand people to the emergency room each year."

Bea couldn't help but chuckle at Reid's detailed explanation. "Thanks, Dr. Reid," she replied, amusement lacing her voice as she sat down on one of the revolving chairs. "I feel much more powerful and deadly to my enemies now."

Morgan, standing in the doorway, joined the conversation. "So, you two know each other?"

"Not really, but I heard she's partially the reason why I got caught by the FBI," she retorted, not holding back. "And here I am, working with you guys."

"Woman, what haven't you done?" Morgan turned his head towards Beatrice, who simply shrugged in response to his question.

Though, she replied with a touch of wistfulness. "Paragliding in the Swiss Alps. Always wanted to do that, but never found the time or the boyfriend to do it with."

"Boyfriend, huh? You got none?"

"Well, nobody wants to date the girl who could tear their whole life apart with just one click," Beatrice quipped, a playful chuckle escaping her lips and turning her attention to the computer settled on the table in front of her. "Is this my computer?"

"Wait, what are you all doing here, by the way?" Garcia asked, gesturing to the room and the team that surrounded them. "And yes, ma'am, that's your computer,"

Beatrice glanced up from her computer, her eyes meeting the cheerful gaze of a woman with flowing blonde hair and striking blue eyes. "Well, they wanted to welcome Beatrice, and ask her why she's here." she breezed, her voice carrying a warm and friendly tone.

"Oh, come on, JJ."

She placed a hand on her swollen belly, her smile widening. "I'm Jennifer Jareau, the communications liaison, but just call me JJ."

"Beatrice Sterling, your new data entry clerk. Bea will do it."

"Alright. I'm sorry guys, but you'll have to ask her questions some other time. We just got a new case." She raised a brown folder in the air. "Hotch wants us at the round table right away."

Derek sighed, shrugging. "Let's go. See you when we get back, guys."

THE BLONDE ANALYST meticulously cleaned her computer, arranging her desk with a touch of personal flair. It had been two days already since the team flew to Ohio to work on the case and she had been transferring paper formats into computer files left and right. As she admired her handiwork, her gaze drifted to the neglected stack of papers and boxes concealed beneath her desk. Curiosity wrinkled her brow as she reached down to retrieve them, revealing another set of cases yet to be entered into the database.

In the vicinity, Penelope's voice carried through the air, wrapping up a conversation with Derek, who sought crucial details about the victims in their pursuit of the elusive UnSub. The screens display a montage of crime scene photographs and Beatrice's inquisitive nature took hold. She found herself inexplicably drawn closer to the imagery. She disliked mysteries as they trigger the need in her to solve them.

"Will get back to you guys once I-"

"Huh, that's weird." mused Bea, her head tilting to the side as she scrutinized the images depicting a woman's stomach riddled with holes. A distant memory stirred within her, reminiscent of something she had encountered in the past.

"Is that you, Bea?"

"Oh, hey, Morgan. About these puncture wounds. . ."

"What is it?"

"Oh, uh, I just saw them on Penelope's computer screen. Were they inflicted post-mortem?"

"Yeah, the blood was wiped clean from the wounds."

"Hey, Garcia," she whispered, seeking permission, "do you mind if I take a closer look at those images? I think I might have seen them somewhere before." Her colleague nodded and slid aside to give her space. "These just look extremely familiar to me. I know I have seen them somewhere."

"Wait, let me put you on speaker. Guys! Beatrice has something to say."

"Oh, no, no, no," Beatrice stammered, her eyes widening with apprehension. She vividly remembered the criticism she received from her new boss earlier. With a sudden rush of self-doubt, she retreated, "I'm sorry! I-I better get back to my work."

"No, tell us what they remind you of."

Hotchner's voice on the other end of the call made her momentarily pause, but she swiftly shook her head, firmly grounding herself in reality.

"Uh, okay, sir. Just give me a moment," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of urgency. Sliding back to her desk, she retrieved her trusty pen and notebook. With a focused intensity, she began to meticulously draw the haunting wounds on the blank pages, tracing each one with precision. A muttered curse escaped her lips as she completed the task, connecting the wounds with a single line.

"What is it? Talk to us, Sterling." encouraged Morgan.

"The wounds. . . they represent constellations. Sir, this unsub is creating constellations in your victims' stomach."

"Constellations?" expressed Rossi in disbelief. "Don't tell me this guy was following the zodiac."

"Well, no, these are from a family of constellations known as the Heavenly Waters. You can look it up." explained Beatrice, opening a website that contained the constellations she mentioned. "Piscis Austrinus, the southern fish; Eridanus, the river; Delphinus, the dolphin; Equuleus, the little horse."

"Well, I guess we now know how he came up with the nickname."

Rossi's voice resonated through the call as he concluded, "That's why he'd open up all the windows after each kill, so their souls could be released into the sky."

"The translations of those constellations. Dolphin, horse? Anything sound familiar?"

Hotchner answered Prentiss's question. "His origami things."

"Okay, so there are nine constellations in the heavenly waters family and so far, I have seen eight here," Beatrice asserted, her voice filled with certainty.

Prentiss confirmed her observation. "Yeah, our unsub continued where he left off. See, she first did Vela, and then last night she did Carina."

The revelation struck Beatrice. "It's a she? The unsub is a woman?" She paused momentarily, shaking her head. She had witnessed far worse things than this. "Anyways, the only one left is Columba, the Dove. One more kill and she completes his set."

Morgan's voice carried a hint of astonishment. "She knew the meaning of the stomach wounds, something even we didn't know. She must have been a lot closer to Ryan than we thought."

Suddenly, Dr. Reid's voice broke through, unmistakable in its presence. "They weren't just close. They were in love."

They all fell silent as if absorbing the weight of the realization. Morgan's voice finally returned, conveying praise. "Good work, Bee."

A touch of playfulness entered her tone. "Bee? You're calling me Bee now?"

Morgan chuckled. "Well, Yellowjacket is too long of a nickname for you, so Bee it is. Plus, it fits. Little Bee."

With a scoff, Bea responded, finding humor in her friend's antics. "Whatever, Morgan. Make sure you come back in one piece. You still owe me drinks. Peace out." She turned her head towards her associate. "Thank you so much, Garcia,"

Garcia responded with a knowing smile. "You and Morgan are close."

"Oh, yeah. We kept in touch after New York. I mean, we almost went boom in that ambulance so," Grinning, Beatrice settled back at her desk, reaching for her headphones. However, a sudden realization struck her. Morgan's affectionate tone towards Garcia and their use of nicknames, were they together? Her jaw dropped as she blurted out an apology, standing up from her chair. "Oh my god. Is he your boyfriend? We are in no way flirting! We are friends, I swear! I'm so sorry."

Garcia's smile widened, reassuring Beatrice. "No, silly! Morgan and I are friends. I just noticed how close you two were." There was an unspoken implication in her words, but she chose not to pry further. As if to change the subject, the technical analyst asked, "By the way, do you think you can help me with this new software I am developing? I'm having trouble figuring out the right algorithm to input."

A mischievous smirk crossed Beatrice's face. "Girl, that's my forte. Hand it over."

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beatrice and aaron, you two are off to a great start! they are such a thundercloud x sunshine beam! im excited to write their work relationship slowly evolve. hotchbea is life.