CHAPTER FIVE: ANNOYING COWORKER INSISTS ON EXISTING RIGHT IN VISUAL RANGE

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COFFEE! COFFEE! COFFEE!

The woman's mind screamed for the life-giving beverage as she took slow sips, relishing in the rich aroma and the warmth that spread through her body. Every word that fell out of their unit chief's lips about the case just passed by her ears as she needed something to kickstart her gears. She couldn't believe her current circumstances—on a plane bound for Las Vegas with the BAU team she was assigned to. And the fact that Chief Strauss insisted on her presence only added to her disbelief.

During the car ride earlier with Hotchner, silence hung heavy in the air. Thankfully, her boss refrained from making any comments, which eased her discomfort. Beatrice always prided herself on her independence, never wanting to be a burden or indebted to anyone. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that she owed her boss for the favor he did by driving them to the airport.

Actually, Bea took a moment before boarding the jet to call Chiara because she had made a promise to be present at the young girl's ballet recital. That was the reason she was heading to Washington. Thankfully, Chiara understood the urgency of her work. She was a sweet and forgiving girl after all, never one to hold grudges, but that only made Beatrice feel a pang of guilt. She will have to make it up to Chiara once she returns and call her again today when she can.

Now observing the team from a distance, the analyst couldn't help but feel a sense of inadequacy wash over her. The team's collective talent and intelligence were daunting, making her question her own abilities. She felt like an outsider, a new kid in a school of popular kids. Choosing to remain at a distance, she continued sipping her coffee, content to observe.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice the dark-skinned profiler approaching her until his voice broke through her reverie. Startled, she turned to face him, mustering a smile in an attempt to hide her inner turmoil. "Hey, you okay? You've been standing there for like ten minutes now."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm okay," she replied, her voice lacking conviction. She set aside the biscuits she had found, her appetite suddenly diminished.

Derek raised an eyebrow, clearly seeing through her facade. He had always been perceptive, a skill that came naturally to profilers. She let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping. "Actually, no."

"You want to talk about it?" he offered, concern etched on his face.

"It's just. . ." She brushed her hand through her hair, trying to find the right words to express her feelings of doubt and insecurity. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do here. I don't think I'll be of any help."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not a profiler like the rest of you, Morgan. I'm an analyst. My expertise lies in cyber analysis, tracking online activity, threat assessments, but catching criminals and understanding their behavior? That's not my expertise." Derek attempted to interject, but Beatrice was determined to voice her concerns. She raised her hand, gesturing for him to wait. "I appreciate your faith in me, but I can't help but feel like I won't measure up. I'm afraid I won't be able to contribute in the same way as everyone else."

"Remember the case in Ohio?"

"The one with the constellations?"

"Yeah, who was the one who noticed the wounds formed constellations?"

Beatrice's gaze dropped, memories flooding her mind. She recalled the puncture wounds that assembled constellations, a small breakthrough she made. "Me," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What about the bomb in New York? Whose idea was it to hack a satellite for more time?"

"Me," she admitted, her voice growing slightly stronger.

"And Colorado? Who came up with the idea to use Morse code to send us a message about the mass suicide?"

"Me."

A smile played at the corners of Derek's lips, his reassurance shining through. "You see? Those were your ideas." he tapped her temple lightly. "Don't underestimate what you can bring to this team. You're capable of more than you know."

His words resonated with her, resonated with the part of her that craved validation. "I guess. . . being a cyber analyst isn't so. . . different from profiling after all," she admitted. "We both analyze patterns and understand human behavior, just in different contexts. They still lead us to the same destination."

"Exactly. Don't let your doubts overshadow that. You have a gift for understanding human behavior, I know you do."

Beatrice wanted to believe his words, but deep down, there was a lingering fear-a fear stemming from the memory of the last time she had tried to catch a fugitive. She had ended a life, pulling the trigger without hesitation, and the lack of remorse had unsettled her. Her therapist had explained it as pure survival instinct, but the experience had left a lasting mark.

"Thanks a lot, Morgan." the woman finally replied, her smile now genuine. It had been a long time ever since someone asked her how she was and actually listened and it felt good. The last time was before her older sister, Olivia, returned to Afghanistan. It actually felt like Morgan was an older brother of hers, looking out for her which was comforting.

"You're welcome. Now, you wanna go back out there? What you think, blondie?" affirmed Derek, winking at her. She nodded as he patted her shoulder and led her back to the team.

Beatrice sat by Derek's side, her snack momentarily forgotten as her attention shifted to Reid, who appeared distressed in his sleep. Concern furrowed her brows, and she couldn't help but voice her worry. "Is he okay? Should we wake him up, or. . ."

She glanced at Derek, seeking guidance, and he responded with a subtle nod, silently communicating the need to rouse Reid from his troubled slumber. Rossi leaned over and gently nudged Reid. "Reid. . ."

Reid jolted awake, his eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to readjust to his surroundings. "Sorry, I was dreaming," he apologized, his voice filled with a hint of disorientation.

Emily let out a chuckle. "Ha! No kidding!"

Reid began sharing the details of his dream, mentioning a six-year-old boy who had been abused and stabbed, and pointing towards JJ, whose hand rested protectively on her swollen belly. "Your baby was at the crime scene. I was trying to get him out of there," he explained, his gaze directed downwards. "Sorry."

"It's okay."

Derek offered a perspective. "You know, Reid, simple dream analysis suggests that if there's a baby in your dreams, that baby represents you."

Reid promptly dismissed the notion. "I don't believe in dream analysis."

Hotchner chimed in, supporting Derek's observation. "I don't know. It does make sense. The case we're working on and the case in your dream both involve children. Maybe your subconscious is telling you that you want to sit this one out."

"I don't."

Emily probed further. "Perhaps you're just feeling stressed about returning to Las Vegas. Have you informed your mom that you're coming?"

Spencer's response was curt. "Why aren't we reviewing the case file?"

"I don't know. Maybe because someone fell asleep on the jet." The woman teased, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Beatrice couldn't help but chuckle, the lightness in the atmosphere bringing a momentary respite. She took a sip of her coffee, savoring the warmth and camaraderie within the team. Deep down, however, she sensed the undercurrent of Reid's unease, and a part of her wondered if his dream held a deeper significance, a reflection of his own inner turmoil. Strauss's warning about the possibility of pulling a team member out from the field echoed in her ears and she silently hoped she wouldn't have to make that difficult decision.

Derek handed her a copy of the case file, and as she pulled out a pen from her bag to underline important details, Bea braced herself for the task at hand. The words on the page sent a shiver down her spine as she delved into the details of the autopsy report. Her heart sank when she discovered the young age of the victim. Cases involving children always struck her at her core. She couldn't fathom how someone would think of murdering an innocent child.

JJ presented Emily with a picture of the child, introducing him as Ethan Hayes. "He was five. Two weeks ago, he was abducted out of his own front yard," the blonde explained.

Reid inquired about the parents' whereabouts, and JJ provided the answer from the police report. "His mom just ran inside to grab her purse. When she came back, he was gone. She wasn't away for more than a minute or two." She continued reading the report. "Police found his body exactly one week later in the desert. He was in a new change of clothes. His nails clipped. His hair was combed."

Rossi commented, "That's a lot of remorse."

JJ confirmed, "No sign of sexual assault. The medical report suggests he was smothered. Unsub could see this death as merciful."

Remorse? Merciful? No shit. Beatrice blinked, finding that hard to believe. Could the unsub truly harbor such emotions? She shook her head, determined not to let her personal emotions cloud her judgment. It was crucial to maintain a clear perspective and build an accurate profile of the unsub.

Reid questioned the connection between this case and another, prompting JJ to explain, "The unsub called each of the families, but no ransom demand. It was more like taunts. He's telling them it's their fault that their child was taken."

Beatrice couldn't help but mutter under her breath, "Talk about some fucked up logic."

Six heads turned to stare at her.

She quickly scratched her nape, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Sorry."

Emily's reassuring voice came in, "No, you're okay. I agree with what you said."

Relieved by her understanding, Beatrice focused on the task at hand. Morgan summarized their findings, voicing their shared understanding. "Okay, so, we have an unsub who shows remorse and then projects his guilt onto the victims' parents."

Hotchner concluded the discussion, emphasizing the urgency of their case. "And if we're lucky, six more days to find a boy before he's killed."

Beatrice's gaze remained fixed on the details of the report, her eyebrows knitted together as her mind raced with possibilities. Could it be that the unsub they were pursuing was a parent whose child had been taken away, or maybe they themselves had been abandoned as a child? The idea of the unsub dressing the boys as their own child lingered in her thoughts, especially considering how well the first boy had been taken care of when he was found.

"What is it, Bea?"

Startled, Beatrice perked up, stunned by Rossi's sudden mention of her name. "What?"

"You're making that face again."

"What face?"

"Lowered eyebrows, squinted eyes, lips pointed downwards. They are your physical cues." Reid chimed in.

Beatrice raised her eyebrow.

"Uh, Garcia calls it Bea's Thinking Mode. Do you, uh, notice that you also chew on the cap of your pen when you do that?" The young doctor provided further explanation.

The blonde retorted, "Dr. Reid, I thought there was a moratorium on inter-team profiling? You told me that last week."

Rossi shrugged. "Can't help it. You're fun to read."

Hotchner's voice brought her back from their moment. "Do you have something to share, Sterling?"

Beatrice contemplated her options before settling with a, "I'll tell you all about it later." She didn't want to share an assumption that can't be fully supported by evidence. All she had was a gut feeling and as she read from a book last night, gut instincts can lead a criminal profiler astray and waste valuable time, unless it can be concretely confirmed.

THE CYBER ANALYST was tying her hair into a high ponytail just as she caught a glimpse of Amy Bridges and JJ descending the stairs. Earlier, she suggested to Hotchner accompany Emily and Rossi to the dump site, but he insisted that she stay with him and JJ to meet with the parents.

Actually, she would have preferred to go to the site or the morgue, as she believed she could be more helpful there, but what else can she do but follow her boss's command, right?
Despite being entrusted with monitoring the team's performances and given the authority to remove any member she deemed unfit for the case, she recognized that Hotchner remained in charge, and she respected his authority above all else.

But to be honest, Hotchner's presence was starting to grate on her nerves. She just wanted him to be out of her sight for the day and was making every effort to achieve that, but it seemed he had other plans. It almost felt like he wanted to keep a close watch on her, perhaps to prevent any trouble she may cause from arising. But, what trouble? She never did anything that wasn't to solve a problem they were having.

Lost in her thoughts, Beatrice picked at her nails, her focus momentarily disrupted by the ringing of the telephone. She leaned against another telephone, hearing the voice of their technical analyst on the other line. Actually, she had volunteered to triangulate the location of the kidnapper's call, but unfortunately, the work laptop was in Rossi's SUV. All she could do now was set up the telephone on speaker mode, ensuring that everyone would hear every word spoken by the unsub.

"Garcia, you ready?"

"Ready when you are."

Hotchner's voice cut through the tension, his words directed at Mr. Bridges. Beatrice observed the father's stress, his pressing need to answer the call and rescue his son evident in his demeanor.

The father's anxiety was palpable as he argued, "He's got my son," desperate to answer the call.

Beatrice swiftly moved toward Craig, gripping his arms to gain his attention. They couldn't afford for him to lose control. "Yes, he does, and that's why you need to calm down, Mr. Bridges," she asserted, crossing her arms in front of her. "Look, this guy is taunting you, trying to make you crumble, to render you desperate." She met his eyes, her gaze unwavering. "By reacting like this, you're giving him the satisfaction he seeks."

"Do you even understand what I'm going through? Are you a parent?"

Without hesitation, she opened up to share a piece of herself, her voice filled with understanding and compassion. "Yes, I have a daughter waiting for me back home and I would do everything to get her back if I were in your position. That includes calming down and listening to the people who can help me get her back."

"I think Amy should answer the call." suggested JJ from the back.

"She doesn't want to do this." protested Craig, his voice filled with concern.

"No, I don't."

"It's been our experience that the parent who displays the least emotional distress is often the most effective."

Hotchner hesitated for a brief moment before inviting Amy over. "Amy, you'll be great." JJ guided the mother to the table. "Just try to humanize Michael at every opportunity. He needs to see him as a person. Try to keep him on the line for as long as possible. The more he talks, the more he'll reveal about himself."

Beatrice nodded, her expression resolute, as she signaled for Amy to answer the call. She could feel her own adrenaline surging, her focus sharpening as she prepared to assist in any way she could.

"Are you alone?" The voice on the other end of the line inquired, its lowered tone causing Beatrice to readjust her glasses. It was evident that the unsub was utilizing a voice changer to mask their identity.

"Uh, my husband is with me."

"Why are you just sitting at home when you should be out looking for your boy?" the unsub taunted.

Hotchner scribbled words on his yellow pad, providing guidance to Amy on how to respond. Beatrice felt frustration well up within her. She understood the unsub was trying to provoke Amy's emotions and undermine her sense of self-worth as a mother, but she couldn't help but ache for Amy, empathizing with the pain and fear she must be experiencing.

"He's better off with me."

"Thank you for calling us to let us know Michael's all right."

"I didn't say he was all right."

"I know. I'm. . . I'm just trusting that he's okay." Amy said, her voice strained.

"He's in a better place now."

"May I speak with Michael?"

"He doesn't want to talk to you. He knows what a bad mother you are. Your three minutes are up," the unsub coldly declared, abruptly ending the call.

Hotchner immediately turned to the other telephone. "Garcia, anything?"

"It looks to be a disposable cell phone," reported Garcia, her keyboard clicks resonating through the line. Beatrice's arms tightened across her chest as she absorbed the information. They needed to trace that call, find any lead that could bring them closer to Michael. "I couldn't triangulate the call."

The blonde frowned, her mind racing to find another angle. "Did the signal bounce off from any towers?"

"Wait. . . yeah, it did! From one, no, two towers! Both within Las Vegas."

The team leader turned his attention to Beatrice, his eyes searching for an interpretation. "Meaning?"

Removing her glasses, Beatrice set them down on the table, meeting Hotchner's gaze. "The guy's mobile, and moving within the Las Vegas limits. He didn't travel outside the city. He's just around. Best guess, he's out buying supplies and what else. Called once he bought a disposable cell."

He nodded, his expression a mix of relief and resolve as he turned back to the parents, offering words of comfort. "It's a start. Like I said, the more he talks, the more we'll learn about him."

Beatrice took a moment to acknowledge Penelope's efforts. "You did great today, Pen! Thank you!"

Hotchner added before they ended the call, "Call us if you find anything."

"Got it!"

"These are Agents Morgan and Reid," introduced JJ. "They'll be here all night just in case he calls back."

"I need to lie down." Amy expressed, her weariness evident in her voice.

"Of course. You should go with her."

Craig nodded, and Beatrice empathized with his exhaustion and emotional turmoil. The weight of the situation was heavy on everyone involved.

"What'd you find out from the medical examiner?" Hotchner inquired, standing beside Beatrice.

"We think that he's starving them."

"But that doesn't fit with the care he takes with the bodies. Starvation would be a form of torture."

"Didn't the medical report say there was no sеxual assault?" Beatrice added to their leader's claim, raising a pertinent question that had been on her mind.

"Yeah," Morgan agreed, considering Beatrice's observation. "The torture could be a substitute for the sеx act."

The unit chief acknowledged their insights. "I'll coordinate with Rossi and Prentiss. We'll call you if there's anything new."

"Couldn't find any evidence of forced entry."

Reid inquired, seeking to understand the significance. "Why would that matter?"

"'Cause it means he most likely. . ."

"That would mean the boy. . ."

"—knew his attacker." Hotchner and Beatrice both finished their sentences at the same time, their synchronized realization hung in the air. The two of them locked eyes for a brief moment, just as he abruptly turned and walked away, his strides leading him outside the house. JJ followed closely behind.

Beatrice took a deep breath before jogging outside to catch up with them just as they were about to climb into the SUV. "Sir, I think I'll stay here with Reid and Morgan for the night so I can try to track him down myself if he calls back," she proposed. Hotchner studied her for a moment, seemingly evaluating her. The woman held her ground, no longer intimidated by his presence.

Finally, he gave her a curt nod, acknowledging her request. "I'll tell Dave to drop off the laptop here," he confirmed.

"Thank you, sir."

STANDING BEHIND THE one-way glass mirror, the cyber analyst, and her dark-skinned associate watched intently as the interrogation unfolded. Bea's exhaustion weighed heavily on her, threatening to drag her down into an abyss of weariness. The only thing that kept her going was the robust cup of coffee she had prepared for herself.

Earlier in the night, Spencer had been plagued by a nightmare, his shouts piercing the tranquility of the house. Startled, Bea had jolted out of her half-sleep and started waking up her colleague. In the chaos that ensued, he had accidentally pushed her, sending her sprawling towards the floor. She had narrowly missed hitting her head on the sharp corner of the coffee table, the near miss sending a shiver down her spine once she had gathered her wits together.

Spencer had apologized profusely afterwards, his remorse palpable. While Morgan consoled the concerned parents who had rushed down the stairs to check on them, Beatrice chose to forego her own pain, settling down beside him to offer comfort and solace. She and Morgan had listened intently as the youngest profiler poured out his fears, his voice tinged with a deep sense of helplessness.

Beatrice couldn't help but feel a growing concern for Spencer and his well-being created a complex tapestry of thoughts that started to overwhelm her. The weight of the case, the search for Michael, was already taking a toll on him. Last night's events had made it painfully clear just how vulnerable he was becoming.

The woman then came to the difficult realization that the younger man might need to take a step back from the case, if only temporarily. She understood that Spencer's fear for Michael's safety was the driving force behind his determination to bring him home. It was admirable, but she worried that this pursuit would gradually erode his emotional well-being.

She knew that proposing this idea to him would not be met with open arms. Spencer was fiercely dedicated, and he would likely argue passionately against any suggestion of a break. And so, she decided she would voice her suggestion to Hotchner as he is the leader of his team. Strauss may have given her the power to remove any of the members from a case, but this was still his team. This was his decision to make.

She then recalled the solemnity of the funeral. She had stood by Amy's side, offering support. Bea couldn't fathom the agony the mother beside her must be feeling. Her son might be the next one they have to bury. As soon as she mentioned the unsettling feeling of her son's captor lurking nearby, her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for any signs of someone standing out or blending in too well. And then, her attention shifted as she spotted her colleagues, Rossi and Emily, discreetly escorting a man who had been videotaping the funeral of the first victim.

Dave's voice cut through the air, breaking the silence in the room. "Where were you on the days Ethan Hayes and Michael Bridges were abducted?"

"I was home."

"Don't you need to ask what days those were?"

"Am I under arrest?"

"No, you love kids. You're just helping us with an investigation." Emily attempted to defuse the tension.

"So, you have no right to search me."

Emily sought to extract more information. "Why? What would we find?"

"Oh, do you like videotaping other things besides funerals?"

Just as the interrogation reached a critical juncture, Spencer entered the observation room, joining them with his hands tucked inside his pockets. "They found a few photos on his cellphone, but none of them are of Michael. How's the interrogation going?" he asked, his voice filled with anticipation.

"Well, he looks like he's hiding something," Beatrice expressed. She couldn't shake the nagging feeling that there were layers to this man that were yet to be uncovered. "Uh, listen, is Hotchner outside?"

"Yeah, he and JJ are about to leave with Michael's parents."

The analyst briskly exited the observation room, determined to approach their superior. Spencer will definitely not appreciate her meddling into his business, but she hoped he would understand she was just looking out for him. Because over the weeks they had worked together, she had grown fond of him, like a younger brother.

"Sir!" Bea called out, catching Hotchner's attention as he turned on his heel to face her. "Sir, can I talk to you for a second?"

Hotchner quickly excused himself from JJ and the parents, leading them to an empty office. The weight of her words settled heavily upon her as she prepared to express her concerns and felt a pang of guilt, as if she were betraying Spencer.

"What is it, Sterling?"

"Sir, I hope I'm not crossing a line here, but I think Dr. Reid should take a step back from this case." she voiced, bracing herself for the impact, aware that her words will strain their working relationship even further.

"On what grounds?"

"This case is taking a toll on him. Emotionally and mentally, he's torn apart. He's going to get angry with me for saying this to you, but last night, I witnessed firsthand how affected he is so much by all this. I'm worried about him."

"Didn't Strauss give you the authority to remove any of us from a case? Why are—"

"Dr. Spencer Reid is under your leadership, sir." She firmly spoke, the light in her eyes dimming. "You know him better than I do, having worked with him longer. That means you should be able to determine whether he can still perform his duties effectively. I was hoping for your reassurance on that matter."

If Hotchner was taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor, he didn't show it. Instead, he nodded in acknowledgment. "I appreciate your concern. I will talk to him after the interrogation."

"Thank you. And I want you to understand that I despise this new assignment Strauss gave me. . ." Her voice softened slightly, tinged with frustration.

"Then, why did you take it?" Her boss's voice turned icy, skepticism etched on his face. "What is in it for you?"

"I didn't have much of a choice. I honestly thought she would change her mind but as I witnessed all these things going on in here, I realized you don't deserve the judgment she has on you all. None of you do," she explained earnestly, crossing her arms. "And so I want to help. Now, you may think I'm under her thumb—"

Hotchner interjected, cutting through her words. "I know you aren't."

Taken aback, she blinked twice. Why is he so confusing? One time he treats me like I'm his archenemy and the next, I'm not. Bea cleared her throat. "Good, because as much as I don't like you, Mr. Grumpy Pants, I think you are so rigid and inflexible that you're like a fucking wall—" she admitted, not mincing her words.

"Watch your tone, agent."

Their gazes locked, both of them standing their ground. The room seemed to crackle with tension, their clash leaving a lingering sense of unease.

". . . You have remarkable leadership skills, SSA Hotchner. You genuinely care for your team and protect them like family. This unit is one of the best I've ever seen, and I would hate for it to be dissolved or for you to be reassigned. We both harbor the same sentiments about Strauss, okay?" She uncrossed her arms, pointing to herself. "I'm on your side. From one unit chief to another. Don't treat me like an enemy."

With that, Beatrice turned and walked away to leave him, but not before adding, "And oh, as for what's in it for me? Nothing, sir. If you and Strauss actually think I want a permanent transfer to the BAU, well, you're mistaken. I'll be more than happy to get back to C3S, to my team, my desk, and my computer."

The woman marched towards the coffee maker, her mind still consumed by her conversation with Hotchner. As she approached the machine, a glimpse of black hair caught her eye, and she eased slightly when she recognized Emily standing there.

"You guys done with the questioning?"

"Not yet. Just went out to get some water." Emily leant against the counter. "So, Hotch is giving you a hard time, huh? This is the longest I've ever seen you upset."

The blonde threw her hands in the air as soon as she heard his name. "It's just. . . he infuriates me! The more I look at him, the more I want to shove a foot up his ass!"

Emily raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Well, that's one way to express your frustration. But hey, don't let him get to you too much. Hotch takes time to warm up to people, trust me. He was like that with me when I first joined the BAU. Give it time, he'll come around."

"Honestly? I don't even care about making him like me. That's his problem."

The profiler chuckled, pinching Bea's cheek as she walked away. "Now, I get why everyone calls you the Bureau's Sweetheart. You still look. . . so cute even when angry!"

"Ow! Stop it, Ems!"

"HEY, DANTE, YOU think the FBI got him?"

"I think so. I mean, the guy's a creep. He had lots of photos of boys on his cellphone. He was videotaping the funeral earlier when he wasn't even a member of the family or even related to them."

"He's toast, man. Child molesters get the worst treatment in jail. They are the lowest of the low in prison. He's lucky if he lasts there for a year."

The young analyst overheard snippets of a conversation between two passing cops as she made her way towards the observation room. Beatrice's eyes narrowed, a nagging thought tugging at the corners of her mind. Something didn't sit right with her, and she couldn't shake the feeling that they were overlooking a detail. Without hesitation, she swiftly changed course, rushing into the observation room and opened her laptop.

"You got something, Bea?" Derek asked, jumping up from his seat, sensing her unease.

"It's just bothering me."

Reid furrowed his brow. "What is?"

"That we keep on saying he."

"Sorry?"

"The unsub." she explained, her voice gaining momentum. "We keep on saying it's a he that in the funeral earlier, we already focused on hunting for a man."

"Because that's where the profile is pointing us at. A male unsub."

Beatrice's fingers rapidly tapped on her keyboard. "Derek, have we ever considered the angle that this unsub could be a woman? Reid, give me some, uh, facts or numbers about abductions. . ."

Reid's voice carried a sense of precision as he responded, "Uh, abductions tend to be male-driven crimes. Almost all kids kidnapped by strangers are taken by men, and about two-thirds of stranger abductions involve female children. Statistics have shown that men predominantly abduct children, while women are more likely to target infants—"

Bea cut him off. "Okay, okay, forget numbers and facts for a moment. Uh, let's consider the possibilities. What are the odds that this unsub is a woman, a mother?"

Reid's response came swiftly. "Approximately eleven point seven percent."

She blinked twice. "That was supposed to be one of those questions where I engage you guys into the idea without expecting an answer, but I appreciate that so much, Reid. You are brilliant! Thank you!"

"You're welcome."

She turned her attention to her other colleague. "Here's something I learned as an analyst, Derek. Even if you're just looking at one thing, what you see still depends on what perspective you're looking from."

With renewed determination, Beatrice swiftly typed on her keyboard, opening the VICAP program. "Tell the cops to hand me every video they have from the funeral earlier. I'm going to run facial recognition on all the women in attendance."

Reid nodded, swiftly left the room to gather the necessary materials. "You sure about this, Bee?" Morgan asked.

"I'm not, but let me work on it," replied Beatrice, picking on her nails. "I'm better at recognizing patterns on my screen anyway. Just don't tell Hotchner about this, in case I am wrong."

Before Derek could respond, his phone rang. He quickly answered the call. "JJ, what is it? We'll be on our way," he said, and just as Reid entered the room and handed Beatrice a CD, he pulled him away. "Reid, come on, the unsub called."

"Reid, don't tell Hotchner about this!" Beatrice shouted, inserting the CD into the drive. "Alright, let's see if we've been looking at this case from the wrong angle."

The woman anxiously waited as she optimized every image and ran them through the program, hoping for a breakthrough. The minutes ticked by slowly, her heart pounding with anticipation. Her phone buzzed, and Reid's caller ID flashed on the screen. She hurriedly answered the call.

"Bea, you were right! The unsub is a woman."

"Oh my god,"

"We believe she was institutionalized and lost a child of her own, probably around the age of five. I'm heading over to a mental institution to try to look at records of recently released women. Garcia couldn't find any central database. Did you find anything in your search?"

"Nothing yet. So far, I got no hits from VICAP, and none of these women own a four-wheeler. I'll now try to see if any of them recently lost a child. Thanks, Reid!"

"Call me if you find anything."

"Of course."

Just as she ended the call, a ping from her laptop diverted Beatrice's attention. Her eyes focused on the screen, and a rush of excitement surged through her as she saw a mugshot photo of a blonde-haired woman named Claire Bates. The information revealed that Claire had been institutionalized after assaulting a fellow secretary at a law firm and had given birth to a son three weeks ago. Social services had intervened and removed the baby from her care after a seven-day evaluation. It was a strong piece of evidence linking her to the case, as she was the only one among the funeral attendees who had recently lost a child.

The blonde sprang into action, hastily snatching up her taser and jotting down the address on a note. Leaving the room behind, she made her way out of the precinct and swiftly hailed a taxi. As she sat in the backseat, she dialed Reid's number, informing her of Claire Bates.

Just as she was about to contact Emily to tell them as well, Hotchner's name invaded her thoughts. She slapped her forehead, telling herself to get it together. Taking a deep breath, she dialed his number.

"Sir, I think I know who has Michael! Her name's—"

Hotchner interrupted, "Claire Bates?"

"Oh, uh, yeah!"

"Do you have her address?"

Beatrice quickly retrieved the address from her notes. "Yeah, it's two five zero nine Brookside Avenue."

He wasted no time. "Let's go! Wait for backup, Sterling. Don't go in there alone, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

And with that, she let herself be dropped near the address. A house was settled in a desert, its desolate surroundings mirroring the atmosphere that enveloped her. Bea fought every urge to rush inside and see Michael for herself, but she knew that approaching Claire, who was suffering from delusions, could escalate the situation and put the child in further danger. Not long after, the rest of her team arrived at the site. Hotchner, taking charge, tossed her an FBI vest and Rossi formulated a plan. "Morgan, Prentiss, and I will go around the back."

"You and I'll take these doors, Sterling."

Beatrice nodded as she clasped the vest around her and raised her taser. As they moved through the living room, tension thick in the air, Morgan's urgent voice echoed through the house.

Without hesitation, they followed the sound, their steps quickening in unison. The adrenaline surged through Beatrice's veins as they reached the garage, their eyes locking onto the sight of a roaring fire, flames dancing wildly, threatening to consume anything in its center. She felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her chest, fearing that Claire might harm the child by throwing him into the inferno.

"Claire, back away from the fire and put him down."

"My baby's dead!" Claire's anguished cry reverberated through the field, her words filled with grief and confusion.

"No, he isn't!" Emily's voice carried a soothing tone, attempting to console the distraught woman. "He's being taken really good care of by someone else. Just like you need to take care of this boy."

"I kept healthy. I did good. . ."

"We know you did. We just need you to step away and put the boy down."

Beatrice observed the desperate grip Claire had on the blanket, her heart racing with uncertainty. Was Michael really hidden beneath its folds? "My baby's dead," Claire repeated.

"Do you have a clean shot of her?"

"What? Rossi, she's not armed!" Beatrice's voice cut through, filled with conviction.

"If he's still alive and she drops him in the fire, we may not be able to save him."

Derek shifted slightly to improve his angle. "Yes. I've got one."

Beatrice's eyes widened in shock, her heart pounding in her chest. The sight before her was agonizing, but she knew that taking a shot was too risky. Claire's unstable state made her unpredictable, and one wrong move could have dire consequences. The thought of that bullet potentially striking the child made her intervene. "Morgan, no! Do not take that shot! We can't risk hitting the child!"

Rossi's gaze remained focused, his aim unwavering. "Beatrice! If we stand down—"

A surge of vexation coursed through her veins, her voice turning fierce. "She's grieving for the loss of her baby, Rossi! Her mind is consumed by psychosis which makes her unpredictable! If she suddenly moves to protect herself, the boy might get hit!"

Her words echoed through the tense air, a plea to hold fire. She had seen enough to understand that Claire's actions were driven by grief and delusion, not malice.

Derek hesitated just as his hand then instinctively reached for his earpiece and relief flooded his features. "Reid has Michael!"

Beatrice felt a surge of relief flood through her, a weight being lifted from her shoulders.

"No, don't do it!" She heard her colleague's voice rang out in desperation as Claire hurled the blanket into the fire, revealing a collection of baby items, remnants from her own child.

Bea watched as a car pulled up in front of the house minutes later, bringing Amy and Craig to the scene. As they rushed towards the entrance, JJ joined Beatrice's side, a gentle smile on her face. They both watched as Michael, now safe and sound, held JJ's hand and approached his parents. The reunion was filled with tears of joy and heartfelt embraces.

"He's safe now," said the analyst softly. "A doctor will check him out, but you can be with him the whole time. He should be able to return to his own bed tonight."

"Thank you," Amy said, her voice trembling with gratitude. She turned to JJ, expressing her thanks to her as well.

JJ smiled warmly. "You're welcome. We're just glad Michael is safe and back with his family."

"You're going to be great."

"I know."

As Amy and Craig enveloped their son in their arms, Beatrice felt a sense of satisfaction. Despite the challenges and the intensity of the case, they had managed to protect an innocent child and reunite him with his parents. She turned to JJ, her eyes falling on JJ's swollen belly, and memories of her older sister Olivia flooded her mind. Olivia had been pregnant once and that time left a lasting impression on Beatrice. "When are you due?"

"Three weeks from now."

Beatrice chuckled. "The first week with a newborn can be both terrifying and amazing. But trust me, you'll do great." Concerned for her, she added, "Oh, you should sit down now. You've been on your feet since earlier."

The analyst then approached Hotchner, Reid, and Morgan, joining their conversation just as the latter spoke. ". . . You had me, Bea, and Hotch worried, so just enjoy your moment, Reid, alright?"

"Hey, guys," she greeted them with a smile. "Thanks, Morgan. I think you're right. I might just have a gift for understanding human behavior."

Morgan affectionately rubbed her shoulder, smiling. "You were great earlier, blondie." Reid, with his hands in his pockets, then turned to Hotchner. "Hotch, do you think it would be possible to wait until tomorrow to return home?"

Hotchner pondered the question for a moment before directing his attention to Beatrice. "What do you think, Sterling?"

Beatrice's head whipped around to face him, her eyes wide with surprise as Hotchner directed his question toward her. It was a departure from their usual dynamic, leaving her intrigued and unsettled. There was now a slight shift in his attitude, a willingness to acknowledge her. "You're seriously asking me what I think, sir? Wait, who are you? Are you possessed?"

"Strauss didn't tell you two call the shots now? That's interesting," Morgan remarked, his tone lighthearted.

"Call the shots?"

"Well, now you know."

"Whatever, Morgan." Beatrice rolled her eyes, making a mental note to ask Strauss for further clarification. "I'm fine with whatever you decide, sir,"

Hotchner, always composed, nodded in response, acknowledging her agreement. "Do you think you could find something to do in Las Vegas for the night?"

Morgan's smirk widened, mischief dancing in his eyes as he responded, "Come on, pretty boy. Let's give your parents some time to talk."

Before Beatrice could smack his arm, Morgan dragged Spencer away, laughing. She watched them, amused by their banter, as she prepared to excuse herself and make a call home. However, Hotchner's voice called her back, halting her steps.

"Agent Sterling," he addressed her, his tone slightly hesitant as if searching for the right words. "You did good today."

A surge of satisfaction washed over Beatrice as she basked in the rare praise from Hotchner. Was the world ending now? Not long ago, she was certain he was going to hate her presence.

Feeling light-hearted, she decided to set aside her reservations and teased him in return, "Just good? Not excellent? Outstanding? I think I deserve a lot more than just 'good' and a star stamp on my hand." She raised her hand, grinning mischievously.

His next words took her by surprise, his tone carrying a note of sincerity. "I apologize for the way I acted. Welcome to the BAU."

Beatrice's smirk widened as she playfully retorted, "Careful, Hotchner, we might just become friends." She shrugged casually. "Strauss wouldn't like that."

A subtle tension lingered in the air between them, a connection slowly growing. She couldn't help but wonder what the future held for their evolving relationship within the team and beyond.

Hotchner's gaze locked with hers, his lips forming a thin line. It was a rare sight, she noted, to see him without his usual stern expression. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, a hint of warmth.

"Then, let's hope we don't, Sterling."

–—————

oh, but we know you will, hotch. we know. i wonder what made hotch try to see beatrice in a different light. it's a start! i'm so excited for what happens in the next chapter bc vegas! and we will get to know more about bea and who she really is. A HEARTFELT MOMENT??? TWO PEOPLE OPENING UP??? YES PLS??