Agent Hotchner pulls me aside five minutes before we are supposed to be able to leave. I step into his office, peering around. This is the first time I've been allowed inside. His space is minimally decorated. A window will closed blinds, a bookshelf with a few books I recognize, and the standard leather chairs of the Bureau make up the room. On his desk sits a picture of him, a woman, and a baby in his arms. I imagine they must be his family. Overall, his office is pristine.

"They're adorable," I say, pointing to it.

It's true. They are quite sweet-looking. I'm surprised it looks to be candid, taken by a friend or some other family member. I hadn't thought Agent Hotchner was able to do things without being perfectly posed. He's smiling in the photo. I don't remember the last time that I saw him smile.

"Yes," his voice is dry. "We haven't managed to find a babysitter this year, so my wife and I will be celebrating New Year's Eve from home. Are you going to be with the team?"

I look at him, shrugging, "I haven't made any of my plans solid yet."

"Your free time is your own, but I recommend that you attend," Agent Hotchner runs a hand on the smooth surface of the desk. "Reid hasn't managed to convince you?"

I swallow the ball of fire forming in my mouth, "you asked him to try?"

"Those weren't my words," Agent Hotchner says. He stands up from his desk. "I've noticed that you feel isolated. We all need to trust each other very deeply on this team if we are going to be working well together. It's clear that there is a rift between you and Reid in particular, although I can tell that you don't particularly like any of the men in the office."

All I can do is nod. He is my direct supervisor, although I do also report to his supervisor in a slightly less direct capacity. I would ask him not to profile me, but I don't feel that I am in the position to ask much of him, if anything at all. After all, I'm in the bullpen. He gets an office, as sparse and cold as it is.

"I've asked Erin Strauss if I could bring you along for a case in the new year to help you integrate and she gave me permission," Agent Hotchner continues. "We will wait for a case where I feel that your skillset will be a valuable contribution. In the meantime, I ask that you at least make an effort to build rapport with Reid and Morgan. Doing that will improve your relationship with Gideon as well, since he dislikes what he considers to be petty drama."

"Are you telling me to go to the party?" I ask.

He shakes his head, "I can't tell you what to do on your own time. I can recommend you make an effort to integrate."

For a second, I stare at him, until the words find their way from my head into my mouth, "yes, sir."

Then, I am dismissed. Everyone else is packing up. I let JJ know that I plan on stopping by at least for a bit. She seems to smile. Then, she asks for my number. I realize that none of them have a way to get a hold of me, so I give it to her. She texts me the address.

Back in my apartment, there is no Estelle to greet me. No music plays on the radio, no smell of garlic or salt in the air. A sticky note on the fridge lets me know that there is an event run by the international student association this evening off-campus. It's a catch-all holiday celebration since most of them cannot afford to go home. If I worked better without her, I could get ahead on research for Georgetown coming up in the new year. I'm still putting in the ten hours a week that I'm contracted to work, but it doesn't feel like enough.

Saturday morning, before she is awake, I leave her a note letting her that I am going to be out and about today and that I doubt I will be home before dinner. The rest of the day is spent running errands. I buy a few new pieces of clothing, some ink for my calligraphy pens since I'm determined to pretend I have a hobby even if I don't exercise it. Estelle texts me her grocery list. I make it home just in time for dinner.

When I walk through the door, I hear whispering cut silent. I barely kick off my boots, still in my coat to round the corner and say hello to whoever is visiting. Names aren't something that slip me easily, and I wonder if this is one of Estelle's friends that I know. It would be nice to see Mo, since he hasn't been around in a few months.

Stéphane is sitting at my spot on the kitchen island. Estelle stands in the kitchen, her usual spot. Both of them are staring at me.

It was too hot not to take off my coat. I start to pull it off me. The collar of my turtleneck feels too tight.

"How did you get here?" I ask, looking at Stéphane. My eyes flash over to Estelle, whose face turns pink.

"My car," Stéphane says. "I got up this morning and drove here."

"I gave him our pass to visitor's parking," Estelle says.

"Yeah, I figured you drove here in your car," I roll my eyes. "I should clarify. How did you two get brave enough to conspire together on this? You aren't even supposed to be in the country, Stéphane."

"I was tired from the eleven-hour drive and figured I'd stop by," Stéphane chuckles. "Estelle buzzed me in. Bastien was right about the FBI only raising your paranoia I see."

Estelle and I blink at each other. I bring the groceries up to the counter and sit down next to Stéphane, putting my head in my hands. While Stéphane might be joking, there is a truth in there somewhere. He grips the mug in his hand tighter, his knuckles white. Neither of them is cruel enough to say it, but I am sure that Caro or Bastien would. I am being paranoid again.

"Sorry," I manage. "Working with profilers makes you feel like everyone is conspiring against you. I'm sure Bastien would have a good laugh about it."

"What is it this time?" Estelle asks, beginning to unpack the groceries.

I explain the situation to them, with Dr. Reid's standoffish behaviour, Agent Hotchner's request, and Morgan's flirtation. Estelle acts aghast, but Stéphane barely reacts. He's listening, but I can tell that his brain seems hollow. He doesn't even react when I let them know that Dr. Reid deduced that Estelle and I were roommates. Estelle is shocked.

At the end of our conversation, she decides to order us takeout. Stéphane likes to eat simple foods and it's easier to placate him. The two have met probably about as many times as I've met Mo; Stéphane is the only person I know who is ever allowed in the apartment. They exchanged numbers so that Estelle has someone to call in case she needed to get ahold of someone related to me in an emergency, but they have different definitions of emergencies than I do, so I know they talk about me semi-regularly.

I take a deep breath in. It's the paranoia. Realistically, I doubt they talk at all. They were whispering when I came in, but it might not have been about me. Maybe Stéphane was talking about our Mum. Maybe Estelle was whispering some embarrassing story that she's never told me.

It beats the paranoia, trying to make myself think creatively. It's never been my strong-suit.

Estelle leaves to order takeout, and Stéphane and I are silent. It's comfortable with him, anyway.

"Take the couch for tonight, huh?" I offer Stéphane. It's only an hour drive back, but he's got bags under his eyes and I know he'd try to power through if I didn't ask him to stay.

"Sure," he says. "Also, there is another reason that I stopped by."

I wait for him to continue. Estelle's voice is muffled through the wall. She hates ordering takeout because people have a hard time with her accent over the phone.

"Cletus asked for my permission to marry Caro," he says.

Fucking Cletus.

I nod, "you said yes."

"I'm not confrontational," he answers. It's the closest I've gotten him to admitting that he doesn't like Cletus. "He's... sympathetic enough, I guess. I told Bastien, and he told Maman, and she freaked out. We left early because of it."

"Maman hates Cletus too?" I make an attempt at a joke. I am trying to focus on his words, but I'm distracted by the fact that he said sympathetic instead of kind, just like I did in November. "I mean, of course she does. He's anglophone."

Stéphane pauses, "no. I mean, she doesn't talk to him, but she seemed indifferent enough. Caro said she wanted to get married in the states because that's where most of Cletus' family is. Also, I think she wants you there more than Maman, even if she won't admit it. Maman said she won't come if Caro gets married south of Montréal."

I purse my lips. Our family over here is small. Dad was estranged from his family before his death. Some sort of inheritance issue but I'm not really familiar. There might be some cousins in Louisiana, but I've never heard of them. Maman was an only child, and her parents died in the past few years. If Maman is not coming, the only family Caro will have at her wedding is me, Stéphane, and Bastien. Worst of all, Bastien is joining the military, so who knows if he will even be there?

"Do you think Caro is going to lose it?" I ask. "I mean... without Maman there. Do you think she'll postpone the wedding if he proposes?"

"No," Stéphane admits. "Caro was the one who blew up on Maman, actually. If anything, I bet she'll rush the wedding just so she doesn't have to feel angry forever."

I sigh. It's terrible. Not just because it's Cletus, although that definitely matters. She's not even twenty-five. Her birthday isn't until the summer. She's too young to be tied down, especially to a man like Cletus.

"She doing okay?" I ask, looking at him. "Caro, obviously."

Stéphane shrugs, "call her sometime. She'd appreciate it."

Estelle returns. The three of us spend the evening watching a movie from Estelle's collection. It's called La Soupe aux Choux and it's about farting, aliens, and social ostracism. The French make strange movies for children. During the movie and our dinner, I discreetly text Stéphane, asking for help with Estelle's birthday. He turns to me and nods.

Perfect.

In the morning, I bid Stéphane goodbye.

"You should invite him over more," Estelle says. "He worries, you know?"

"Hopefully he's preoccupied with worrying about Caro's upcoming meltdown," I say. "She's getting married."

Estelle's eyes widen. While she has never met Caro, she knows I have a younger sister. All Estelle can do is shake her head and get up. She returns to the living room with wine glasses and a bottle.

"We need to drink," she says. "All of this is awful news."

I look over at the clock on the wall, "Estelle, it's ten am."

"It's the holidays," she brushes me off."

I roll my eyes and let her pour me a glass.

~~~~~

I think I actually quite like this. Even without Reid, I think this chapter holds an important space in the story. Besides, the next chapter is I think a really fun and good one. I'm excited to share it with you all!