"I'll admit, in the past the company didn't do a great job on the humanitarian end, but, I am trying to change that. I'm personally looking into and researching a lot of what you guys actually do. Read people, build profiles. Try and get information that way, instead of going straight to violence." He confesses and I can see JJ almost swooning as he talks.

"Everyone here understands that your work isn't black and white. No matter their beliefs or differences, they will do their job to the fullest of their ability." Hotch assures him and glances at Rossi.

"Definitely." Garcia says as she nods, then slowly looking the man up and down from his feet to his head.

"As I told Agent Hotchner, the CIA is looking into the death of my men, but they're coming up empty and more victims are being made. No matter what you think of the work me and my employees do, many of them still have family and loved ones they go home to-." Pearce starts to explain, not seeeing that Garcia is undressing him with her eyes, but pauses mid sentence and looks at the door.

I watch as Danika walks through the door looking down at her phone and headphones in her ears. The music is so loud I can hear the words.

I wanna Rob a bank,
Throw the money in the streets,
Walk up to a stranger
Screaming stick em' up freeze,
But I'm too worried bout what other people think
I wanna rob a bank,
Fuck around and make a scene,
make the most wanted on tv
Yeah that me
But-

Hotch walks over and yanks the headphones out of her ears and glares at her.

"You're late." He says.

"Stopped on the way to get a hotdog." She shrugs and finishes the last of it.

"It's 6am." Blake states appalled and Danika starts mocking her, but stops when she sees Pearce who is staring at her.

Danika's POV:
I freeze when I see the man standing in front of me. It's not what he looks like that's making me freeze in my tracks, it's his smell. His smell.

"Danika, this is Mr. Pearce." Hotch introduces us.

"It nice to meet you." He says and it's his voice.

I gulp as my heart starts racing inside my chest

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I gulp as my heart starts racing inside my chest. His hand is outstretched and I hesitantly take it, not wanting to make anyone suspicious. He seems to be wanting the same thing, which is good.

It's his hands. The rough textured skin, the deep smooth British voice, it's all his. Jett.

Part of me wants to take my gun out and shoot him where he stands, another part of me wants to go into his arms. So he can hold me close and stroke my hair, tell me that everything's going to be alright. Everything was quiet with him, time moved slow.

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