The weekend isn't long enough. My roommate, Estelle, is at a conference in The Hague. I sat in while she practiced her seminar twice last week. If I could be there to watch her present in person, I would. If I had started this Tuesday rather than on the damn Friday, I'd be by her side now, listening to something I know she's been practicing for a month.

At least in her absence I have the opportunity to clear my head. On Monday, I almost feel like my own person again. I've bought a new phone, and transferred all my contacts, photos, and the like. I'll have to get Garcia to help me set up multi-factor authentication once more, but then I doubt I will have to bother her anymore.

The rest of the weekend I try to spend relaxing. I do some research to help a professor at Georgetown and I try to get some work done at their library. When Estelle is with me, I get more accomplished. While I could have gotten through my first master's degree without her, the nights would have been much longer and my work less polished. she's on my mind so much, I decide to get her something when I grab the final part of my brother's birthday gift. I spend the better part of Sunday afternoon looking for stuff for the pair of them. Thinking of what to buy them is never difficult but getting them actual gifts is harder. After perusing six different small shops, I'm content with my selection.

Then, I get a call on Sunday evening. It's my youngest brother. I answer the call.

"Hey Bastien," I say into the phone, stretching my neck. "What's up?"

"Hey, what time can we pick you up on Friday?" his voice is scratchy through the line.

It sounds like he's in a tunnel. Actually, I imagine our sister texted him, and he's popped out of a club to send the call. Maybe he's even drunk on the other end of the line. As I've heard, turning twenty-one has made him more wild.

"I should be ready to go at six," I don't sign audibly, not that he'd be able to hear it. "But listen, I've got this new job and they might keep me late, so if I might not be able to-"

"Yeah, yeah," he says on the line. "Listen, there's always something better to do than see us, I get it, and but you know how Caro gets. If I have to listen to her and her boyfriend complain about it during the nine-hour drive, then-"

"Boyfriend?" my fingers grip the phone tighter, as if pressing it to my head will make his voice less filled with static. "What boyfriend?"

"God, I know you're slow, but they've been dating since 2004. She complained all of last Christmas about how he had to fly out to Texas to see family and so he couldn't make it," Bastien tuts at the end of the line. "If she knew you didn't even remember him, she'd kill you, me, and then all of us. It would be the nastiest murder-suicide to ever happen. On God."

I roll my eyes. Caro is dramatic, but not that dramatic, "yeah, well hopefully I won't need to know him this Christmas."

"He is the worst," Bastien agrees. "She wants him to propose next year though. I swear, I cannot be one of his groomsmen. It would be a disaster."

I nod. Although, anyone brave enough to marry Caro should be fine facing a disaster.

I would tell Bastien that she is too young to be married, but he is younger than Caro and hates it when I remind him. Two years of dating isn't enough to expect a proposal, but then again, it's Caro.

"Oh, also, I need your help," Bastien says. "I wanted to know if you had any advice. The military is going to run a background check on me, and it's going to be thorough. They'll be contacting you, Caro, and Stéphane. They are going to even bring a translator when they visit Maman."

I nod as if he can see me, "if they don't ask, you don't tell them. It's their whole policy, right?"

"Well, yeah," he says. "All of us are in this together though. Also, you never said how the FBI application went. They also talked to Maman back then. I don't get why you can't just be open about everything."

I close my eyes for just a second. In these conversations, I'm reminded of why I flew overseas years ago. Nasty sisters and nosy brothers.

"You never told me you were joining the military either," I shake my head.

"Yeah, well, quid pro quo, right?" he says.

"That's a big phrase for you."

"Go fuck yourself, I have a degree in engineering," he's joking. I can hear him laughing.

His joy has always been infectious. Maybe I shouldn't have weaseled my way out of seeing my siblings everytime it was possible since 1998. Last Christmas was my first Christmas with them since that year, "yeah, and I've got no idea how you managed to bribe an entire college into giving you a degree."

"Listen, I'd love to chat about all the professors I sucked and fucked, but I've got to jet. Caro and I and fucking Cletus will be up on Friday to pick you up. You're riding shotgun with me, and we are speaking French the whole time so I can bitch about him to you" he seems to shiver at the mention of Caro's boyfriend.

"His name is Cletus of all things?" I shake my head.

"Yeah, imagine moaning that name! How does Caro do it?"

"Oh, you're so gross," I feel my face sour. "I'm hanging up. Bye."

"Yeah, whatever. I'll see you Friday."

After that call, I feel like I need another weekend to recover. Sébastien is too little to join the military, and Caroline is too young to be married. Also, I'm too old to be focusing on what they are doing so much. I gave up the right to care when I fucked off for the better part of a decade. The only one of my siblings that I see semi-regularly is Stéphane. I haven't even talked to Maman since 1995.

Soon enough, it is Monday, and I am back on the underground heading to work. While I don't feel quite so exhausted, I do have a headache. I blame the weather for my terrible condition. The snow is coming and going, and the shift of pressure in the air is miserable. Worst of all, I want it to stop snowing because then the roads will be safe enough for Bastien and Caro to get me. Caro is sensible enough to stop Bastien from driving if the weather is bad. Unfortunately, I'm actually looking forward to seeing them and Stéphane.

If I'm going to be here, in their country, I can be agreeable. At the very least, I can try my best to be agreeable.

The day in the office is busy. Before I bother setting up, I head over to Garcia. She fixes my phone for me. Without the clacking of her keyboard, her dark room feels quiet. The little figurines she has decorating the space provide no noise. It's even quieter in here than in the bullpen.

"You know, none of us want to be mean," Garcia whispers, as if she too cannot disrupt the silence. "I'm not going to look you up in the database. It's a professional courtesy."

"I'm not mad about it," I offer. "The conversation at the bar, I mean."

She gets quiet once more. It's taking her longer than I expected, and it feels wrong to stand idle on my first day. Even with Estelle gone, the weekend has been a whirlwind. From visiting shops to talking to Bastien, to every second of breathing in my apartment alone. It was all awful.

As much as I'm in this field, doing research, psycho-babble disinterests me. There is pride in only following things driven by actual data. In this moment, something strikes me.

I like being lonely, but I loathe being alone. Most people experience life the opposite way.

Garcia continues to type, and I look at her.

"You know, your makeup is fantastic," I tell her. "It's a shame no one is around to see it in this dark room."

Garcia smiles, "thank you, ginger snap."

I almost laugh, "I mean it. You rock a bold lip."

"Flattery will get you far," Garcia muses. She passes me back my phone. "Maybe I won't mind when you call me to your desk to fix your login."

"See you later, Garcia," I cannot help but smile as I head out of the room.

There we go. It isn't the job I hate, nor the workplace. It is specifically profilers. Garcia is quite pleasant.

I'm proved right when the apology from Dr. Reid never comes. Actually, he never comes in at all. I saw JJ and Agent Gideon on the way in way in here, but they never return. Agent Hotchner pulls both Prentiss and Morgan away from their desks when they come into the bullpen. I wonder if this is what it is going to be like all the time here. While they run off to solve murders, I'm going to be at my desk categorizing their murders and looking for long-term trends in data. The idea behind my position is that I compile the data to help create aspects of profiles.

Someone has to create the data they cite. How would they be able to say that they know for certain that organized offenders are more likely to cohabitate than live independently?

Actually, I need to get myself used to their absences. After all, I can't go on in life expecting other people to be alongside me. Without their jokes and chatter, I get more work done anyway. They aren't like Estelle. They aren't even like my siblings, I guess.

My theory about the disappearances of the other agents proves correct when Prentiss and Morgan return. Someone with a visitor's pass walks by and greets Prentiss. The woman and Prentiss walk away. It is nearly lunchtime, so I don't expect to see Prentiss for another hour.

"Busy morning?" I glance over at Morgan.

He nods, then looks at me, "how much data do you have access to about young offenders?"

I punch a few buttons and pull up the cases the BAU has been involved with involving minors as offenders and limit the pulls to offenders from the last seven years, "more than you'd expect, actually. Way more."

"Males 14 and older," Morgan says. He circles around behind me, leaning over. "Sexual offences and homicide. Serial. Victims are women between ages sixteen and thirty-five."

I exclude all other cases, and it takes me a minute to figure out how to exclude victims based on age and very little pops up once I do, "I think Garcia is probably your best bet for this stuff."

"Reid is going to be back any minute, and he's going to monopolize all her time," Morgan clarifies. He points at the names on the screen, counting them out. "You've excluded cases from before 1995. Extend the dataset to 1980. There aren't many names on here."

I do as he says. He pulls his chair up next to mine.

"Couple of weeks ago, a twelve-year-old in Saskatchewan was sentenced for killing her whole family. Her twenty-one-year-old boyfriend talked her into it," I say, scrolling through the names. "Could your unsub be even younger than you anticipate?"

"We aren't building a profile," Morgan points out. "We're looking for a specific kid. I wanted to see if we had any other cases like him and see if there were any connections which might help us find him. Maybe every young budding serial killer is on a little league team. Then, we could look up little league teams in town, figured out if the kid is on their rosters."

"You got a name for the kid?" I ask, turning to look at him.

Morgan's eyes are still glued to the computer, "no. That's the problem."

He continues to go through files with me but I'm not much help. I have no experience with investigation like this, so all I do is click along with him.

Dr. Reid comes back five minutes before lunch. As Morgan had suggested, Dr. Reid practically sprints into Garcia's office. He is in there for less than ten minutes, before he runs out. He gets Morgan and Agent Gideon, and the trio slips out again. Agent Hotchner asks me to stay late to help cover for everyone else, and I do as he says. It is just me in the bullpen for the rest of the day.

Shortly after dinner, I still don't have the go-ahead to go home. Everyone filters in around that time. Accompanying several of the agents is a teenage boy. He looks like he cannot be more than sixteen. Five years ago, Bastien was that age.

In my head, he's kind of still that age. I know he's able to drink and go out and do all sorts of fun things, but he's that age all the time.

Everyone but me gathers in the conference room to discuss the case. If it weren't for Morgan, I wouldn't even know what the case was about. I still don't really, if I'm honest. My guess is that kid has done some GV and murder, serial. When they leave the conference room, I'm cleared to go home.

Even though I barely communicated with them, I feel like I need another weekend. Now, I'm already in need of two recovery weekends and it's only Monday.

~~~~~

Very little Reid but I am setting the stakes here. What do we think of Cole so far? I think she's kind of rude, but I'm so stoked about the character growth in this. We will see if she actually likes to be lonely but not alone. What do you think?