Chapter Text
Hotchner had already pulled the team off rotation, explaining the matter to Strauss as having names and leads on several potential serial offenders in the area and the team members being quintessential to the informant so they couldn’t hand it off to the Police. Meanwhile the team was investigating the names, trying to tie offences to the offenders, working on multiple geographic profiles and profiling the murders to see if they tied to one of the names they’d been given. They were also still investigating the names to see if any crimes had even been committed on top of researching the clientele. Morgan and JJ had spent several hours at the local police stations interviewing the investigating detectives and obtaining copies of the files – Morgan as the liaison for once and JJ there to soothe any politically ruffled feathers of the higher-ups.
They didn’t get together again until two pm to discuss the information garnered thus far.
“It’s hard to narrow down,” Garcia started, the team congregated in her small office, “but I’m fairly certain it’s the proprietor rather than a customer.”
Reid raised his eyebrows.
“What? But the-“
“Uh-uh, keep quiet, pretty boy, until baby girl has finished speaking.” Morgan interrupted, a hand over Reid’s mouth only to retract it when the genius licked Morgan’s hand.
“Don’t mess with me,” he told him, narrow-eyed, when Derek was wiping his hand on his trousers with disgust, “but I’ll take your point,” he finished calmly, nodding to Garcia.
“Aww, thank you, my perfect tall drink of hot chocolate, for defending my honour.”
“Anytime, sweet-“
Hotch cleared his throat and both Garcia and Morgan quickly turned more professional, although Reid noted the twitch of Hotch’s lips and exchanged a quick wink and grin with JJ.
“Okay, so because we don’t have a timeframe of when you got the first letter, at least not with absolute certainty, there is an overlap between several of the customers and Reid’s eight visits during that time window.”
“Eight, huh?” Prentiss said quietly, elbowing him gently, a teasing grin on her face. Reid flushed a bit but rolled his eyes at Emily and focussed back on Garcia.
“The reason I think it’s the proprietor is because it’s too much of a coincidence, otherwise. Our dear proprietor, Rose Potter-Black, opened that café not too long ago but before that there was no Rose Potter-Black. There was, however, a Hyacinth Potter-Black who started and ran two youth centers in Detroit and Cleveland for about fifteen years. Then before that there was a Dahlia Potter-Black who created a technology company and opened a bookstore slash library in Los Angeles which are still turning a profit today. All of those, including the café, are coming into the same bank account with the exception of the youth centers which has a separate account and is run on donations with the Potter-Black accounts filling in the remainder as needed – and it isn’t needed as often as you’d think. Anyway. I can find possible traces in England even before that owning a flowershop going from her bank account but it’s not online now and was before the Internet in many respects so I’m just going off what I can guess. It’s called Lily’s flowershop, though, and she really does seem to have a flower theme going with her names.”
Garcia shrugged lightly as she looked at the team. “So, I’m not sure what you’d like to call it, but I can tell you with certainty that Rose is not her real name and that she changes it every ten years or so. I don’t know how to explain the rest given how young she looks.”
There was a pause as everyone looked at the evidence filling the different screens from the company directory, old newspaper articles and her bank account information.
Hotch stepped back slightly, exhaling and then turning his attention to the resident genius who was still perusing the different screens, likely looking for a misstep. He wasn’t sure how to explain it either but he would rather have the proprietor in his sights so he can assess her honesty than try further guesswork.
“Reid, we are going to have to ask her to come in and talk to us, at least, to determine if she is the one who gave you those names and how she obtained them. Would you be comfortable calling her or would you prefer one of us to ask her to come in?”
Reid looked at him for a moment before sighing. “Let me call her.”
Hotch hesitated for a moment before nodding.
“But on speaker, please.”
He didn’t think Reid would give anything away but as unit chief the concern was less whether he trusted his people but what he can justify and explain on paper and, given his legal career, it was always better to have witnesses should anything be potentially questionable (and prosecutable).
The youngest team member sighed but acquiesced easily, probably having deduced Hotch’s reasoning on the matter already. Garcia easily opened up the camera focusing in on the coffeeshop again.
“Good Afternoon, this is Rose. How may I help you?”
“Ah, hello -ah, Rose. This is Reid. I mean, Dr. Spencer Reid. I – we met. I mean, I sat in-“
A giggle interrupted him.
“I know who you are,” she said easily, then added with a slight flirting lilt to her tone, “Dr. Spencer Reid.”
Reid flushed and avoided the eyes of everyone else in the team.
“I- Err, yes, I mean- yes, that’s me. I- You know how I am FBI?”
Her tone changed to cool and professional immediately, noticing the change in conversation and Reid’s lack of reciprocal flirtation.
“Yes, I do. Is there something I can help with?”
Reid breathed out in relief at the segue; this, at least, he knew how to handle. “Yes, please. Do you know where the FBI offices are in Quantico? Could you come in?”
“I- you mean, me? I mean, yes, of course I can. Is this a café order or are you asking me to come into the FBI?”
“You, please. I- we have some questions.”
A loud exhale and a shuddering breath in.
“Of course, Dr. Reid. I’ll be there. Can it wait until after I close the café at 3 o’clock or do you need me to close early?”
Spencer’s eyes snapped to Hotch. A quick glance at the watch showed that 3 o’clock was just over half an hour away so he gave Reid a quick nod.
“After you close up is fine. We’ll alert the guard at the gate so you just need to give them your name and one of the team will come down to fetch you.”
“Okay,” a small hesitant pause, “whatever I can do to help.”
“Thank you,” Reid said quickly, genuine gratefulness leaking into his voice as he softened now that she had agreed easily.
This time the smile in her voice was audible.
“Any time, Spencer,” her voice equally soft and gentle, eliciting a smile from the genius. “Sorry, but I have to go now. I have customers waiting.”
The phone call ended with a click and as she’d said, there were three customers on camera waiting for Rose’s attention by the counter.
Morgan patted him on the back softly and the others followed suit, giving him gentle reassuring touches as they filtered out of Garcia’s office.
“We could use your office,” Hotch suggested, gesturing to Rossi’s office door. They all took in their space and noticed the case files and crime photos spread over several desks with eight crime boards in easily visible locations. Prentiss winced.
JJ took in the scene with a practised eye and quickly checked something on her phone. “I’ll book us a meeting room. We want her cooperation at the moment and she is not a suspect for most of the crimes she has reported with a rather solid alibi. A meeting room will be a neutral location without being overwhelming. And I would suggest only two or three people there for the interview so it doesn’t seem like we’re putting pressure on her.”
Hotch nodded after giving the suggestion a moment’s thoughts, easily acquiescing with the more experienced liaison.
“Thanks, JJ. And good job, Reid. We all reconvene at 3 – that should give us at least quarter an hour before her arrival to set on some questions. If you’re okay with it, I’d like you to be there, Reid and lead the meeting.”
Both nodded at him, Reid offering a quick smile, and the rest grabbed their chairs to sit together and figure out what questions they needed to ask.
True to his word, the gate guard had let her through easily and Rose hopped off her bicycle, feeling the blush rise higher on her face at all the side-glances she got for using a bicycle rather than a car and pushing it through the yard. After a moment’s hesitation she left it at the side of the building – if you couldn’t trust the FBI not to steal a pink girl’s bike, then who could you trust? And walked in through the main entrance, eyes roving over the security measures, imposing guards and guns (Americans and their guns, she could practically hear Hermione hiss in outrage in the back of her mind).
“Good afternoon. I’m here to meet with the Behavioural Analysis Unit at the behest of Dr. Spencer Reid. My name is Rose Potter-Black,” she quickly blurted out when the tall wall of a man at the beginning of a security check so much as glanced at her. In her defence, he really looked imposing – like Morgan only twice as muscled and even larger if that was possible. Rose wasn’t even sure she’d taken a breath in between saying all that – something the guard had obviously noted as well going by his amused smile.
“Deep breath,” he said easily, his voice a deep rumble, “and then try again. In the mean time, put your bag and drinks in here, we’ll put it through carefully and then get rid off anything metal before you go through that.” He nodded in the direction of the scanner.
Nodding, Rose quickly took out her earrings, necklace and rings as well as the keys to her shop, patting herself down to make sure she’d gotten everything.
Naturally, it turned out Rose needed three trips – first the belt, then the shoes and by then Rose was scarlet and ready to sit in the corner and cry at all the attention she’d garnered from holding up other people.
“Alright, you’re good to go,” she was finally told and Rose quickly grabbed her tray so she could step into the corner and reassemble everything without having to be close to or look anyone in the eyes.
“And your escort’s at the side there waiting,” he finished and she paused, throwing a quick glance over to where he was pointing only to find Morgan waiting by the lifts. The man stepped over the moment she made eye contact and Rose was ready to sink into a puddle on the floor, realising he’d probably watched the whole thing.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” the man waved off easily, obviously noticing her embarrassment and lowered eyes as she threaded her belt through the loops on her trousers. “Happens several times a day, at least.”
Rose doubted it judging from the outrage of the other employees but it was kind of him to try and placate her, so she didn’t argue (out loud).
Finally hooking the last earring into place, Rose shook herself slightly, trying to get rid of the nerves, gently lifting up the coffee and pastries she’d brought with her, hoping she had brought enough for everyone when she took twelve with her (and glad for the warming charm she’d used to keep them the right temperature and the spell to keep them stationary and not leak all over the place when she hit a bump with her bicycle).
“Alright. Just so you know, I don’t believe you but I appreciate the sentiment. Now, take me to your leader,” she added with a slight grin and was relieved when Morgan laughed out loud, easily taking one of the six-trays off her along with the two bags.
“Well, after having your coffee this morning, I am really glad you didn’t listen to the boy genius when he said you only need to bring yourself.”
Rose laughed, feeling herself relax as she followed the man into the elevator.
“We got you a meeting room,” he explained as he lead her down a corridor to a small room where Reid and JJ were already waiting. “Good luck,” he offered, ready to step away but her hand on his arm stopped him. She’d put the coffees down but looked puzzled.
“Look, I’m not certain what this is about, but I can guess. And I have no issues with the entire team being here,” she told them calmly and Morgan’s eyebrows rose.
“You sure? You were flustered downstairs when a few people glanced at you – this will be a room full of profilers.”
Morgan knew Hotch would tell him he should have taken the first offer, but the girl was sweet and innocent, and he didn’t really want to expose her to everyone unless she had a heads-up first.
Rose laughed. “Interrogations I can handle – everyone else staring at me like I’m a circus animal expected to perform some sort of trick in public is where I draw the line. So, yes, do your worst, I can handle it.”
There was certainty in her voice and a calmness in her actions when she told him that suggested at one point there had been a ‘worse’; that along with the connotations of an interrogation did not lend a pretty picture, but Morgan just smiled and patted her on the shoulder.
“Good woman. It was going to be a pain hovering over a tiny computer screen to watch the interrogation,” he ignored Reid’s reprimanding “Morgan!”. “Besides, you already know the way to our hearts – with good food and drink.”
Rose laughed again when Morgan found himself a seat on the other side of her, opposite of Reid, a small insulation against all the strangers who would soon fill the room.
“My name’s Jennifer Jareau, by the way, but please call me JJ.”
“Pleasure to meet you, JJ. Please call me Rose. And this one’s yours,” she then told Reid and handed him the sweet Mocha with cinnamon in it. “I didn’t bring plates, but I got napkins. Otherwise, this six-tray is the sweeter ones, labels are on each cup on what’s in it. The other one is plain black coffee but different roasts so you can pick whichever you’d prefer. And please help yourself to the pastries.”
Rossi led the way into the room, eagerly introducing himself and selecting an Italian Roast along with a savoury pastry. The rest of the team filtered in quickly after that, including Garcia.
“Oh, this is perfect,” Garcia declared easily, eyeing the pastries and sweet drinks. Morgan laughed.
“They are perfect,” Morgan said easily remembering how good they had tasted, “but not as perfect as you, baby girl,” he flirted easily with a slight growl which made Garcia blush and smile at him coquettishly.
“Oh, you know there’s no room for anyone else in my heart, my chocolate adonis.”
Morgan noted that Rose seemed amused but had relaxed even further, especially when Hotch rolled his eyes issuing an only slightly reprimanding “behave”, which Morgan took as the approval it was. On days like this, it was really good working with a team of profilers who could read the room and knew how to support the play at relaxing their interviewee when she was surrounded by strangers.
“I love your dress and your glasses,” Rose told Garcia. “It’s so pretty. I wasn’t sure I would even be let in here in my jeans but I didn’t want to waste your time going home and changing either, so I’m really glad to see the dress code isn’t quite as men-in-black as I thought.”
Garcia laughed.
“I get away with it because normally I just stay hidden in my office behind my computer screens. And I am that good.”
Hotch raised his eyebrows but notably didn’t contradict her. The FBI had recruited a hacker rather than put her in jail precisely for that reason.
“I like you,” Rose said easily, lifting her drink in a toast which Garcia echoed with an easy smile, before turning to Hotch.
“So you’re the leader, then?” She asked, head tilted, focussing on him.
Curious as to why she’d picked him out rather than Rossi, Hotch remains stoic and unresponsive, knowing Rossi will easily pick up the thread. Sure enough the author easily changes his posture to become more authoritative and giving the impression of being larger than he is by taking up more room.
“And what makes you think that?” He asks, voice hard as he looks at her.
The café owner merely gives him a second glance but looks surprised he has to ask.
“You all defer to him even if you don’t openly say anything. The way you look at him for approval and he is the one who told you to behave. I’m fairly certain it’s him.”
Glances around the table between the profilers at the detailed attention and observant nature she’d displayed with just a few words and this time Hotch nods.
“You’re right. I’m the unit chief, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner,” he introduces himself and continues the introduction with their official titles despite knowing most of them gave her their name already.
“You are here because twice when Dr. Reid was at your café he returned with a list of names.”
Rose nods.
“Yes, did it help?”
Hotch controls his surprise at the easy confession but only barely and notices some quick glances from Prentiss and Rossi.
“So you gave Dr. Reid the list?” He asks, just to get final confirmation.
“Yes,” she says easily, brows furrowed as if confused by their surprise. “I tried to tell the Police officers who come by on occasion first but they don’t do anything as I had no proof. Once Spencer told me he’s with the FBI, well,” she divulges as if it were that simple. “I could have just handed to him but I didn’t know what to say or how and I figured if it’s on him when he finds it, he’s curious enough he’ll have to look into it and maybe he can help prevent further crimes.”
Morgan groans and Reid looks like he’d like to hit his head on the desk. Her brows furrow.
“Sorry, did I cause some sort of trouble?”
Hotch’s lips twitch against his will.
“Well, Reid was staying at Morgan’s in protective custody. A lab has been analysing fingerprints on the list and his wallet as we weren’t sure if someone was stalking Dr. Reid or intended him harm possibly like a list of threats that could happen to him.”
Her mouth dropped open and she blanched.
“Oh my god, Spencer, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen at all, really.”
She does fit in well with their resident genius, Hotch thinks wryly, recalling a conversation they’d had earlier with Reid about needing to consider how he phrases things and how they might come across to the other party.
“I blame the people who raised me,” she says quickly and there is so much to take from those simple words – the distance (not family, but referenced as people), the resentment and the honesty behind the word blame Hotch thinks there is much more to uncover here. “Too little socialisation training when I was younger.”
Morgan snorts.
“What are you? A dog?”
A quick laugh. “Not far off,” she says and Reid nods quickly. “There is evidence that-“ but cuts himself off when he notices Rossi’s quick headshake.
“Look, I get it now. I really did just want to help. I tried other avenues but when I realised Spencer was FBI I thought it would be perfect to give him the list. I just didn’t know what to say: Hey, now that I know you’re FBI, can I just give you these names and their crimes? I figured that would be maybe abuse of power? Investigating people at a friends’ behest? I don’t know. Really, I just didn’t want Spencer to think I was just interested in his access to higher power and I had no idea what to say if I were to broach the subject. I really thought this would be a better solution all around,” Rose admits with a bashful smile and a shrug, obviously conceding that in retrospect there may have been several flaws with that plan.
“And just how did you get those names?” Rossi asks, leaning forward slightly to better take note of the nuances in her expressions – something Hotch doubts is necessary as Rose seems to have no experience or skill in keeping her emotions hidden and every thought she has is practically visible on her face. Much like Garcia, Rose wears her heart on her sleeve.
“Well,” she draws out slowly, clearly wondering whether to concoct a lie or tell the truth and Hotch waits, wanting to see which she will choose. Finally, she sighs and gives in, shoulders drooping – truth it is, then. Good. Reid is still watching quietly, obviously knowing he is emotionally compromised and happy to let them ask the hard questions rather than sour his relationship.
“This is going so sound so weird,” she whines under her breath and Prentiss exchanges a quick glance with JJ who shakes her head slightly, clearly not sure either. Another deep breath. “I can see people’s souls.”
A moment as the team takes it in, quick glances – indulge in the delusion or play against it? Indulge, is the quick decision and Hotch’s look at JJ lets her know he wants her to take lead as the more sympathetic team member aside from Reid and less sceptical than Morgan and himself.
“And what does that look like?” JJ asks, voice gentle, expression open and inviting. Rose looks surprised but happy to be taken seriously and answers honestly, speaking of colours and threads, clouds and names.
“So you can see people’s names on their soul? But some of the names you gave us were off, like it was their middle name and not their first or a nickname rather than their normal name,” Garcia interrupts, sounding genuinely curious to the point Hotch isn’t sure if she actually does believe what Rose is saying.
Rose hums slightly.
“No, it’s not your name on your birth certificate. On your soul I can see the names you see yourself as, the ones you identify yourself with.” A pause, hesitant, as if reluctant to divulge it. “I – I can also see the names you kind of identify with but you don’t like. It’s like they have a line through them – but you’ve been called it so often you identify yourself as that even if you don’t want to; mentally distant but not emotionally. Does that make sense?”
She is clearly making a point to look at neither Morgan, Prentiss nor Reid and to a room of profilers her clear pinpoint straight eyecontact with Hotch without allowing her eyes to so much as glance at the people at either side of her may as well be a neon lit sign.
Hotch sighs. He doesn’t believe but he is reluctant to expose either of his agents to emotional pain. But both of them give a slight inclination of their head, agreeing wordlessly to what he is going to ask.
“What can you tell me about Dr. Reid?”
Her eyes snap to their resident genius, checking if this is okay with him and this time the nod is overt and clear; Hotch admits that Rose keeps gaining esteem by simply checking on the comfort of his agents rather than just bowing to him and doing as he asks regardless of the impact it may have on others around him.
“His names are Spence. Reid.” Her lips curl up in a slight smirk when she adds, “Pretty Boy” and watches Spencer blush furiously. Morgan sniggers and Hotch looks away quickly to hid his own smile.
“Genius is crossed out.”
The team winces slightly. Just how much time had she spent with Reid to figure out this much, Hotch wondered but nodded curtly.
“His soul is a lot of blue – loyalty. With strands reaching out to others” the way she looks at the team it’s clear a lot of them are linked to them. “kind of intertwined? Like he’s given you part of himself and taken part of you into his soul. And now that I know what he does the grief and pain hanging like a cloud over him and subduing his soul some days makes sense. Introvert, he keeps everything tucked deep inside. Someone like Garcia on the other hand,” she nods to the vivacious technical expert in the room, “their soul is barely held inside their body, constantly reaching out of the body to give part of themselves to those around. Generous, loving, kind-hearted soul. You’re a soft orange-pink colour and wrapped yourself around all of them. It’s like you’re trying to throw all the love and happiness you can at those around you.” Rose shrugs with a soft smile as Garcia blushes, avoiding eye contact even when Derek wraps his arm around her to tuck her into him.
And with a slight grin and nod at Morgan she adds, “and, yes, baby girl is written into your soul.”
“Morgan. Chocolate Thunder,” she adds with a slight laugh to her voice. “Derek. Brother. And your non-identified word is ‘boy’. There are more but they’re far away and kinda faint, like they’re disappearing slowly.”
Rose grimaces when Morgan winces.
“I- I’m just going to talk about the last one. Sorry in advance,” she says to Prentiss, clearly aware of what the impact on the others has already been. “Prentiss. Emily. Name you don’t identify with is Lauren. You also have a few more but like Morgan most are faint and illegible by now.”
Hotch’s brows furrow when Prentiss doesn’t just pale but blanches, like all the colour has leached out of her.
“I- you can’t know that,” she bites out intuitively, quickly, and Hotch is about to interfere, knowing that whatever she is about to say will have everything to do with an emotional outburst and nothing to facilitate their interrogation or relationship with the café owner who is still indulging them willingly despite not being obligated to. “No, Hotch,” Emily pre-empts. “You don’t understand. She can’t know that name. That’s from an Interpol Undercover Op.”
This time there is a pause as everyone assimilates that information. Morgan turns to Rose.
“Can you read some of the faint names on me?” He asks quickly and Hotch recalls that Morgan, too, had been part of some undercover operations. He will need to find out more about Lauren Reynolds and Interpol at a later date if the name is still as visible unlike the others, Hotch thinks before reprimanding himself for falling for Rose’s story of being able to see souls. He still isn’t sure how else to explain what she does and sees, but seeing souls is an absurd explanation. Which also makes it even more curious that it was the one she chose when explaining herself to the FBI; that usually didn’t spell good odds for belief in the supernatural.
“Sam- Samuel, I think. And… Keith, maybe?”
Derek nods quickly – not at her but at Hotch and he finds himself grimacing. So someone with good enough access to find out undercover personas and their names but not good enough to find the real names of the criminals she identified? That made no sense.
“What can you tell me about my soul?” He asks quickly, before he can chicken out and so he can ascertain the veracity of what she’s telling.
“I-“ Rose looks at him, blushes furiously and ducks her head down, hiding her face in her hands and refusing to make eye contact.
“Please tell me you have a child,” she says quickly and quietly with an undertone of desperation and Hotch’s eyebrows rise. No one in the team would be careless enough to mention his or JJ’s child outside the office just in case of being accidentally overheard and opening them up to reprisals.
“Yes,” he says quickly, still wondering why she is asking when she exhales with what must be exaggeratedly large relief, blush fading a little now as she dares to look back at him again.
“Aaron. Hotch. Daddy.” She says and he tilts his head before he finally follows what her thoughts must have been when he hears Rossi laugh loud and hard, and bursts into laughter himself. Prentiss is equally quick, along with Morgan and JJ but Reid takes a moment longer, blushing furiously when it dawns on him.
“Yes,” she hisses, rolling her eyes, face a deep red again while the team tries to reign themselves in. “It’s a lot less funny when you ask someone about their child and they tell you they don’t have one. I didn’t want to divulge your secret bedroom habits to your team without knowing if you could still maintain eye contact the next day.”
More laughter and even Reid is giggling now. Garcia is curled into Morgan, holding her stomach, eyes tearing up with laughter.
“Behave,” he tells them less sternly than he should.
“Yes,” Rossi says, and before he can stop him, noticing the wicked grin curling at his friend’s lips, “Daddy.”
Garcia is shaking with renewed laughter and JJ’s laugh has grown high-pitched. He can’t even stop his own chuckles enough to stop his team.
It takes several minutes for everything to calm down again.
Rather than enter the minefield again – he can guess at the boy for Morgan and genius for Reid but he doesn’t know or understand how this café owner can know half the things she does.
“Are you also called Hyacinth? And Dahlia? Do you also own Lily’s flowers in England?”
The last traces of a smile are wiped from Rose’s face in an instant.
“Yes,” she finally admits quietly after a hesitant pause.
“Lily’s flowers was opened sometime in the 1970’s,” Hotch continues placidly.
Rose hesitates noticeable but nods again after a small pause. “Yes,” she states, voice clear and calm and gaze fixed on him.
“You don’t look like someone in their fifties.”
Another statement but this one elicits a sad smile.
“No,” she says, voice sad as her gaze flits across Reid before dropping to the empty table top. “No, I do not.”
Aaron turns several words over in his mind, trying to settle on the best approach, when Reid intervenes.
“How can you not age?”
Rose sighs, rubs tiredly over her eyes but finally nods and settles.
“Sorry, but your video just got interrupted,” she says quietly and Garcia pulls up her tablet to check and nods to Hotch to confirm Rose’s words. “No audio either,” the technical analyst says and Rose just nods, like it’s expected for all their recording equipment in the room to malfunction simultaneously.
“I shorted it,” she says, even though she hasn’t moved an inch towards the cameras or cables or any of her own technology to do so. “Magic and Tech rarely work well together,” she declares like it’s a known fact.
Then a wave of her hand with a stick in her hand turns the napkin into a bunny rabbit. An alive bunny rabbit. Hopping and sniffing and Garcia is already cuddling the thing to her chest under Rose’s soft smile.
Hotch opens his mouth and then closes it again when he realises he doesn’t know what to say to this. What do you say when you see magic – real magic, not the physics magic Reid does?
Another wave of her wand and Hotch is floating in the air with his chair, just a bit, not high enough to be disconcerting but Hotch feels himself panicking anyway. But she notices and he’s back on the floor before he can say anything (or threaten her with a gun, an option he was seriously considering at this point, but he should have known just asking would be enough from what he’s seen so far). One of the pencils is turned into a hedgehog, another into a cup and fresh water pours into it. A snake appears out of nowhere and Rose hisses at it, before it, too, disappears. Another wave of her wand and everything – bar the bunny still being held protectively by Garcia – is returned back to what it was before.
“If I drank some of the water,” Reid starts, “would some of the lead in the pencil have disappeared when it’s turned back?” He is looking intently at the No 2 pencil, trying to measure its weight and staring at it as if it will somehow divulge all the secrets of Rose’s (Hotch still chokes but continues the thought anyway) magic.
The woman laughs, looking taken aback and surprised, but pleasantly so. Hotch is glad that Reid managed to hit the right note with her rather than being dismissive or aggressive as other team members might have been. Her defenses are back down, shoulders relaxed as she gives Reid a soft smile, her crush on the young geniu- man, obvious to a room of profilers.
“No. The pencil is turned into a cup, the water is drawn from the surrounding air. The pencil remains unchanged and the water will be free of pollutants or toxins of any kind.”
That is handy, Hotch thinks to himself even when he still struggles to wrap his mind around magic exists being a proven fact.
“There’s no chance we all ingested some kind of hallucinogen, is there?” Rossi asks rhetorically while reaching out to pet the only remnant of the magic they’d seen – the bunny.
“Even if we had, we wouldn’t all have the same hallucination,” Prentiss states categorically and for once Reid just nods instead of chiming in with statistics. Hotch sighed internally – he’d already known but he rather disliked having it confirmed.
“So you really can see souls?” Morgan asks, looking straight at the… witch? Is it still offensive if the person really is a magic user? Hotch wonders, but dismisses the thought for the moment as having less priority.
This time Rose rolls her eyes, as if they are all slow for having to rethink their entire world view.
“Yes,” she says firmly and Morgan just nods calmly.
“Are ghosts real?” Garcia asks quickly before any of the profilers can jump in and when Hotch opens his mouth to dismiss her question, he pauses, revisiting their discussion so far and finds himself quiet again, realising that what he had long since dismissed as non-existing may actually be real.
“And angels?” Reid asks quietly and Morgan takes in a hissing breath and Hotch winces.
Rose blinks looking surprised at them all.
“I should probably explain a bit more about myself, which will answer your questions in a way. In the spirit of openness and what I have said about the names you don’t want to associate yourself with – mine are probably Freak and girl-who-lived and woman-who-conquered. Anyway. I was born on the 31st July 1980 in Godric’s Hollow – but not in this universe. In my world there’s a secret society of witches and wizards and I learnt magic at school at age eleven. There was a war, we won, but it was at a cost. I survived attacks I shouldn’t have and frankly attribute to my parents and incredible luck. And then I got a hold of three items which, when gathered, make one apparently the Master of Death.” She shrugs, as if the title alone shouldn’t be blowing their minds as much as it does.
“Landing in this world – or dimension – was very much another aspect of my luck and rather accidental at that. I can’t go back. And I don’t age. So while in my world, yes, ghosts and magic-users exist – they don’t in this world. No magic users, no ghosts. No angels – trust me, as Master of Death, I’d know,” she adds with a reassuring nod at Reid, despite clearly not knowing why he asked.
Is it reassuring, Hotch wonders, that angels don’t exist? He isn’t quite sure where he stands and what questions he wants to ask, but he knows he has hundreds of them.
“I can move onto the afterlife anytime I wish to, though,” she says with a shrug like it’s no big deal. “I can also talk to the dead as long as I can visualise them and have one of their soul names.”
“I think that’s enough for me for today,” Rossi declares after a pause. The rest of the team eyes him and at his nod, also gathers their things to leave.
“Ms. Potter-Black,” Hotch says, before his team leave, handing her his card. “Any further souls, just send me a text please rather than waiting for Dr. Reid to come by. We will handle it. And we will keep this meeting confidential – you will be assigned as a confidential informant and receive a cheque for each successful tip. I- I am not sure about active cases where we need to find the unsub and whether we can call you in on those if you really can talk to the dead, but we will handle it when it comes up.”
If she needs the soul name of the unsub, she will likely not be very useful anyway, but never say never. A statement more important today than any other day, Hotch finds. He’s still not over the fact that they can now call on someone who can talk to the dead – the world just got a lot weirder. He just knows Reid will be reading up on the physics of travelling through dimensions and time and bombard her with questions; Hotch is just glad he doesn’t have to be there for that date to listen to it. His mind is blown enough.
Morgan taps him when they’re half-way down the corridor with a wide grin and a nod back. Turning around Hotch smiles too when he sees the Master of Death, blushing red, eyes sparkling as Reid leans in for a kiss.
“Come on, leave them to it,” he orders his team as he holds open the elevator, watching them scurry in quickly. He will deal with readjusting his world view tomorrow, Hotch decides. Tonight he thinks they all need a drink or ten. “First round’s on me,” he offers in clear invitation and everyone nods eagerly – there are some revelations which you just cannot handle unless you have ingested copious amounts of alcohol. Naturally, Dr. Reid is probably the exception to that rule but even if invited, he doubted they would be able to drag their resident genius away from his new-fangled girlfriend.
“Didn’t I say it?” Garcia gloats as they wait to leave on their floor. “Good. Samaritan,” she states with clear emphasis, poking Morgan’s chest to reinforce it.
“We all got it, baby girl, you were right.” He’s rolling his eyes though, but his smile is wide. “Out-profiled the profilers,” he concedes with a laugh and Garcia slaps his chest in reprimand, turning away with blushing cheeks. Hotch grins and shakes his head at their antics, following his team out of the elevator.
“Meet you all at the usual bar in an hour,” he states quickly, before turning to his office.
“Yes, Dad,” Emily says, giggling already underneath her wide grin and Hotch rolls his eyes when the team around him bursts into renewed laughs at his expense, closing the office door behind him.