MOCKINGBIRD | Spencer Reid ✔️

⠀⠀⠀ nine

"So about half, what's wrong with that?"

"Because I'm not ready."

Silence, again. Even louder than before. And both Spencer and Morgan were screaming inside.

"Reid-"

"Look, I don't want to be apart of that statistic. And I'm happy with my life now, I don't want to mess it up. I don't even know her. She doesn't know me. We don't even know if she's single."

Morgan sighed, "You're right. Look Reid, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"I know, it's okay."

JJ looked in, "Garcia called us into the conference room, looks like we got another one."

Morgan slapped in Spencer's back, "Looks like we're back in business."

When they walked back to their desks, Hotch opened the door to revel Scout. They shook hands, and she thanked him before leaving at a quick pace.

Spencer made eye contact again. She looked nervous and flushed with her lips pressed together tightly.

He nodded and gave her a small smile. Scout returned the favor, and left.

***

"Now, Miss Wiley, it seems like my team has gotten quite close to you."

She chuckled and sat down in front of his desk. It wasn't until now that she realized that she was going to be interviewed.

This was the opportunity Xander was looking for. But it also was her dream from the beginning.

Everything was riding on this.

"I couldn't tell you why, I rarely leave the mailroom. And I don't think I'm that social really."

Hotch set a folder down, opening it up, "Well your file is quite impressive, I'm surprised that FBI didn't show much interest in you before. Why do you think that?"

"I'm guessing that I'm just that good at sorting mail, can't look me as an asset and can't afford to lose me there." She chuckled.

Hotch didn't crack a smile.

Scout coughed, "Sorry, trying to lighten the mood. I don't make my presence obvious and I'm not any different than any other person here, I just work here and I go home. I don't make much of a difference."

"But you want to, that's why you did all the studying and training. You wanted to make a difference."

"Of course, I did."

"Did?"

"Do. But it's not as realistic as I always hoped it would be."

"Why's that?"

Scout glanced away, "I've been stuck in that mailroom for what? 3 years now? Nothing is really calling for a change now."

"Maybe, maybe not. Time will only tell. Now, your instructor states here that you are advanced in reconstructing a crime based on the evidence and interviewing criminals and terrorists in order to obtain insights into their motives and actions."

"Yeah, I was placed in the category of Investigative Specialist. I grew so familiar with the subject that I could immediately discern the nature of the conversation and the subject's emotional state merely from observing body language."

"These kinds of subtle details are often important for the successful resolution of an investigation. Why didn't you complete the training?"

"We were broke. I'm guessing your file tells you about my dad and my mom, I didn't have anyone to cover me to finish. And I couldn't afford it, my mom can't get a job and we're still up to our knees in bills. It was the only solution and the FBI offered me my dad's old position. I could still work here it not with the title I wanted, but I can't complain."

"Would you still do it?"

Scout was taken aback, would she still do it? Of course, she would. But only if it was for the sake of fulfilling her dream, not completing a mission.

If she said yes, then she would have no choice and no way to back out of the mission.

If she said no, everything she loved would be at risk but she would never get an opportunity like this again.

"I would like to."

"Then I would like to give you the opportunity to do so. The team has a mission to go on now, let's see how you work with the others. Grab your go-bag and meet in the conference room in 30."

Hotch stood up and opened the door, signaling the end of the interview.

"Thank you sir, you won't be disappointed."

Scout's face felt warm as she left. Her eyes locked with Spencer's as she walked out with only one thought running through her head.

What the hell was a go-bag?

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