❝Every moment is a fresh beginning.❞

T.S. ELIOT

✩

0.1 : a fresh start

ELEANOR ROOSEVELT ONCE SAID, "YOU MUST DO THE THINGS YOU THINK YOU CANNOT DO." Hazel Finley is repeating these words over and over in her head as she walks up the stairs toward the Behavioral Analysis Unit office. It's her first day and she's combating the intrusive thoughts that are telling her she's not competent, not good enough, not smart enough.

While it's true that she was pulled out of the Academy early, she's definitely good enough. Four years at Vanderbilt for degrees in psychology and forensics, twenty weeks training in the FBI, and now promoted to profiler-in-training. Fin's not sure if that's the technical term, but it's definitely cool.

But right now, she's wishing she'd worn heels. The email she'd received hadn't specified if there was a dress code, so she'd gone for dress pants, a blue-and-white striped blouse-and her green hightops. Comfort won over class, but Fin has a bad feeling that it's going to bite her when she meets her new boss.

But she doesn't see Section Chief Erin Strauss anywhere, and since no one else knows her, she's going to have to go in there and introduce herself, which she was hoping not to have to do today, and heels would have made a hell of a difference in her confidence level.

Fin takes a deep breath, steadies herself, and walks through the doors. Good morning, my name is Hazel Finley. I'm the new agent and today is my first day! That sounds too peppy. God, you're so cliché, Fin, shut up. She gives up on trying to recite anything and instead looks around for a face she might recognize, one from the file sent to her desk at the Academy.

And there's one! SSA Emily Prentiss, stirring a cup of coffee at her desk and reading over a file. Her photo was black and white, but in person, Fin can see that she has beautiful dark hair and serious brown eyes, which suit her. Fin musters up her courage and walks over. "Um, hello?"

Agent Prentiss looks up, her eyebrows raised. "Hello?"

"Hi. Um, I'm Hazel Finley. I'm looking for Aaron Hotchner?"

"Oh, you must be an intern!" Agent Prentiss nods, smiles. "He's actually in a meeting right now, but there's someone who could use your help." She points to a desk further from hers, where a man is bent over a file, his hair obscuring his face. "I'm Emily Prentiss, by the way."

"I'm actually not-" Fin wants to explain that she's actually an agent, that she really needs to speak to Agent Hotchner, but before she can say anything, Emily is already talking to the other agent.

"Reid, this is Hazel. She's an intern and she can take that message you need delivered."

The man across from Emily looks up and holy shit he's handsome. Fin has to fight to keep her jaw from dropping. His brown hair's just a little too long, curling over his ears and tickling the collar of his shirt, his jawline could cut glass, and his eyes are the most beautiful coffee brown. That is a very good-looking man right there.

"Um, I need to speak to Agent Hotch-"

"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid," the other agent introduces himself, holding up a large white envelope. "I need this delivered to-"

"Who's this?" An African-American man leans his hip against the edge of Dr. Reid's desk, crossing his arms, his eyes on Fin. He's got massive biceps, a serious expression, and very nice eyebrows. SSA Derek Morgan, yet another beautiful man of the BAU.

"One of the new interns," Emily replies. "Hazel, this is-"

"Derek Morgan." Fin's getting slightly frustrated with the constant interruptions, because she's not an intern. "Yes, I know. I know all of you, but I have to tell you that-"

"Hazel Finley?" A new voice from behind her, distinctly male, and definitely serious.

"Okay, the next person who interrupts me is getting shot in the-oh, my god, sir, I am so sorry!" Fin wishes instant death was an option, because SSA Aaron Hotchner is standing behind her-well, in front of her now that she turned around-with a serious frown on his face. "Seriously, I thought you were someone else and I-"

He holds up a hand, shaking his head. "It's all right. Chief Strauss told me to expect you."

"It's nice to meet you." Fin smiles, trying to shake off the embarrassment now coloring her face and neck. God, she probably won't ever live that down.

"Everyone, this is Agent Hazel Finley." Hotchner does the introductions, and Fin tries not to laugh at the shocked expressions on all of their faces. I did try to tell you. "She just transferred here."

"So...you're not an intern?" Emily asks, confused.

Fin shakes her head, grinning. "Sorry. Today's my first day, so you were right about that, but actually, Chief Strauss pulled me straight from the Academy. Said I'd be a good fit here."

Agent Morgan's frowning. "Hang on. How old are you?"

"Twenty-five. But I have degrees in psychology and forensics, and I aced my field and combat training, so you shouldn't have any problems." Fin's fully prepared for this; she knows there'll be a few raised eyebrows because she's young and petite, but she was top in her class during combat training. You'd be amazed at how effective a kick to the balls is when you're fighting a man. Not protocol, but effective.

"What's the big fuss?"

A blonde woman walks up behind Hotchner. She's beautiful, athletic and graceful, which makes Fin feel a little self-conscious about her windblown hair and slightly unprofessional shoe choice.

"Uh, JJ, this is Hazel Finley," Hotchner says. "She's the new transfer I was telling you about."

The woman turns her gaze to Fin and smiles. "Jennifer Jareau," she smiles, extending her hand. "Nice to meet you, Hazel."

"You, too." Fin smiles back. So far, it's been an interesting first day. "Call me Fin, please. Only my grandmother ever called me Hazel."

"This'll be your desk right over here." Hotchner points to the desk next to Dr. Reid's. "There's a few forms you'll need to fill out, but for now, just make yourself at home."

"Thank you, sir." Fin nods. This has actually gone pretty smoothly. She's kind of impressed that she hasn't really embarrassed herself that much. Aside from, you know, almost threatening to put a bullet in her new boss's you-know-what.

"Can we get you anything?" Emily asks, watching Fin set her bag down on the desk. "A bagel? Coffee?"

"Oh, honestly, I would love some coffee." Fin nods, eyes wide. "I've been up since five. I couldn't sleep and I don't know if I'll make it without caffeine."

"Yeah, coffee's pretty much a must-have around here," Morgan says, chuckling. "I'll get you some."

"No, you don't have to-"

"I'm actually on my way to get some more," Dr. Reid interrupts, standing up, a coffee mug in his left hand. "I'll get it." He directs his attention to Fin. "How do you take it?"

"Just a little cream."

"That's it?" Dr. Reid scrunches up his nose in disgust. "No sugar or anything?"

"I'm a fan of the way coffee tastes by itself," Fin says, shrugging. It comes with the territory of being Southern, liking strong coffee.

"Fair enough." Dr. Reid nods. "I'll be right back!" He walks off, toward the counter on the opposite side of the room.

"I'm so sorry for assuming you were an intern," Emily says apologetically, leaning forward in her chair.

"No, it's fine." Fin waves a hand. She couldn't care less now. "It honestly happens a lot. When you're short and cute, people just automatically assume you're a child."

"Well, we'll let you get settled," Emily says, smiling warmly, and gestures for Morgan to go back to his own desk.

Fin doesn't really have any personal things, since she's straight out of the Academy, but she does have that photo. She always does. So she sets it up, right at the back, where she can see it from every angle. Three kids with curly brown hair, all beautifully happy, lined up in order of age. The last time they were happy, actually. A boy, age ten, holding a toad with both hands and shirtless. A girl, age eight, hair tied back in two pigtails and splattered with muddy water. Another girl, age three, devoid of clothes except for a diaper and laughing her head off at her crazy older siblings. The good times.

This photo has lived with Fin since she was fourteen. It's been shoved into wallets, folded and used as a bookmark, tucked into pockets, taped onto mirrors and fridges, and if you were to take it out of its frame, you'd see the corners are bent and worn with the touch of a thousand fingers, the photo itself is smudged with fingerprints and tearstains. But Fin can't go anywhere without it; she's not at home without it. It's grounding, in a way.

But most important is the handwriting on the back. It's messy, characteristic of a ten-year-old in fifth grade, and it reads: Ollie, b. February 20, 1981; Hazel, b. April 7, 1983; Lars, b. August 16, 1988. And then there's another line next to Ollie's name, in neater handwriting, different handwriting: d. July 17, 1997. Fin wishes she'd never had to write that line. She remembers that day all too well.

"One coffee with a little cream and no sugar." Dr. Reid's voice startles Fin out of her thoughts, and she watches him set a mug carefully in front of her.

"Thank you." Fin smiles up at him. This might actually not be too bad, this job. It's a fresh start. She really needs one of those.

~

hi hi :) it's ya girl

sooo this is the first fanfic i've ever published, which is kinda wild. i'm super excited to share fin and spencer with all of you, because as much as i love writing their story, i also like seeing how it impacts others. 

thank you all so much for taking the time to read my little story :) it means a lot to me and i'm super excited to see where this goes

okay maia out! i love y'all <3