Make It out Alive

The elevator ride seemed to take years, decades even. I fidgeted nervously, biting my lip. If I heard the ding of the elevator announcing it's destination, I wondered if I would be relieved and calm or sick and distraught. My stomach was doing cartwheels, and my heart was running laps around my breathing. "Calm down, Bryson," I hissed to myself, shifting my weight from one high heel to another. "You're catching the bad guys, not one of them," I reminded myself impatiently. The room shuddered, was still, and with a ding, the doors slid open smoothly. A steadying breath later, I put on my best smile and walked toward a striking blonde who seemed to be waiting for someone.

"Excuse me, but I'm looking for Agent Jareau?" I asked her, adjusting the strap on my laptop case hesitantly.

"That's me. Call me JJ," she said, smiling graciously. She offered her hand. "You must be Polly Bryson."

I grasped her hand, "That'd be me. Polly or Bry, please," I returned her smile.

"Polly, I'm glad you could join our team," she smiled welcomingly.

"I wish it were under circumstances, but I'm grateful to be here," I nodded, my nerves calming enough to be sincere.

"We're glad Baltimore let go of you, we were unsure of who would be able to be a fair replacement for Agent Greenaway," she said, only her eyes betraying her grief of losing her friend, killed by a man who called himself the Fischer King, leading me into the bullpin. The room was for the most part gray. Unremarkable gray carpet, white walls, gray cubicles seperating wood desks. It looked just like Baltimore's field office, only bigger, with unfamiliar faces. Unfamiliar, I told myself, not bad, not threatening, just unfamiliar.

She led me over to two men chuckling at something. One was tall and muscular with dark skin and twinkling eyes. The other was pale and lanky, long brown hair tucked unceremoniously behind his ear and thick rimmed glasses set on his nose. "Guys, this is Agent Polly Bryson from the Baltimore office, she's our newest team member."

I smiled confidently. "Hello. I'm glad to be working with such excellent profilers."

"Well, Polly, I'm Derek Morgan," the muscular man said, extending his hand. His grip was firm, but not unpleasantly so.

"Pleasure," I said, my lips pulling up warmly, matching his grip.

"This is Dr. Spencer Reid," JJ introduced. Spencer was smiling shyly. He waved slightly, clearly not a fan of shaking hands.

"Pleasure to meet you, Doctor," I said, inside wondering how such a young man could be a doctor, let alone in the FBI.

"Spencer or Reid, please. UnSubs call me Doctor," he said smiling. It reached his eyes, making them twinkle kindly.

"Of course," I smiled. "What did you recieve your doctorate in?"

"Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering," he responded, picking at his nails modestly.

I blinked, surprise getting the best of me. He must have seen it, because he smiled. "I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory. I also have B.A.s in psychology and sociology, and currently working on one in Philosophy."

Derek chuckled. "He's boy genius, you'll get used to it. Wait until Mr. Las Vegas starts playing poker with you."

Two men approached us, interrupting our conversation, one with dark hair and a sharp suit, the other older, wearing a simple blue button up and jeans.

"You must be Agent Bryson. Welcome to Quantico," the man with dark hair and suit said, not without warmth, but it was business like, almost rehersed.

"Please, call me Polly," I said graciously, offering my hand.

"SSA Aaron Hotchner, but you can call me Hotch," he said, his eyes showing the warmth that his mouth didn't reflect in a smile.

"Pleasure to meet you," I smiled, greeting my supervisor.

The other man watched me thoughtfully. "You look very much like your father, Polly," he said.

"Only in appearance, sir, are we similar," I said, skirting around the subject carefully, looking him directly in the eye.

He took my point. "Jason Gideon," he said, offering his hand.

"Polly, or Bry, please," I said, placing my small hand in his large. His eyes found mine and I repressed a wince. He knew of my father, of course he did, he had been in the Bureau for awhile, anyone who had been in the FBI for long enough knew of him.

He smiled thoughtfully, strolling away with Hotch behind him. Next a plump blonde woman wearing a shocking canary yellow top, a red skirt and purple accessories flounced over.

"Polly or Bry you said? I'm Penelope Garcia, but most folks call me Garcia," she said, smiling her lipsticked lips at me and heavily made up eyes peered happily at me from behind her thick rimmed glasses.

"Hello," I smiled, offering my hand. She rolled her eyes and hugged me around my shoulders.

"Easy, baby girl, let's not send her back to Baltimore," Derek said with a smirk.

"Oh, but suga, we need some more estrogen in here," she teased, winking at him flirtaciously.

JJ approached again, she pointed out my desk, and told us that we need to be in the conference room in thirty. I set my bag down on the plain wood desk and pulled out my Macbook, sitting in the unremarkable office chair.

Spencer approached and sat casually on the desk. "Hey, Spence," I said with a smile. "Is Spence okay, or do you prefer Spencer?" I asked nervously on a secondthought.

"Either is fine," he said with a shy smile.

I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. Even if he was probably a few years younger than me, he was still my superior in this team.

He seemed to read my mind. He smiled reassuringly. "We're a team, no one is superior to anyone else, we just have different strengths."

I smiled gratefully, his words soothing fears that I didn't know that had surfaced.

"Care to walk with me to the conference room?" he offered, standing.

"I'd be glad to," I said, tucking my laptop under my arm and falling in step with the long legged genius.

"All we heard about you was that you were the singular person using psychological profiles in Baltimore," he commented. I blushed.

"It made the most sense," I mumbled, shyly.

"Why'd you come to Quantico?" he asked.

"I wanted to work with a team of profilers, instead of just me," I answered quietly, brushing my wavy black hair away from my face.

He nodded, and I had a nasty, sickening thought. "Please don't profile me, Spence," I asked, trying to keep the plea out of my voice.

"Sorry," he said, sounding sincere. "It's a habit."

"I understand," I said with a smile, letting him know I wasn't angry.

We arrived at the conference room and walked in. He took a seat next to Derek and smiled, motioning for me to take the seat next to him. I sunk into the chair gratefully.

JJ walked in, and with a click of a remote, the TV screen went from CNN to several horrific pictures.

"In Richmond, Virginia, several bodies have turned up. All white males, ages thirty to thirty two, genitalia removed crudely as well as their heart, and the two are stabled in the other's place." she said, flashing through the pictures.
Hotch nodded. "Wheels up in thirty."

I ducked out quickly, going to my car to get my go bag, and walking back into the tall building, mentally preparing myself not only for the case, but also to prove myself to the team. My team, I reminded myself. I'm in this now too.

Gideon was sitting at my desk, leaning back in the chair. "Agent Gideon," I greeted.

"Just call me Gideon," he said tonelessly, watching me with a distant expression.

I nodded.

"I'm sorry about mentioning your father. I understand it's a sensitive issue," he said, watching me evenly.

"I'd like to reveal that to the team at a later date, please," I whispered, the plea in my voice was obvious.

He nodded. "Care to ride with Aaron and myself to the airstrip?"

"That'd be great," I said gratefully, not knowing the way. I followed him out to a plain black sedan, and sat in the back seat, Hotch taking front next to Gideon.