This is my second CM Fanfiction and please excuse any grammatical errors or such like that. I don't plan on making this OC-centered or a love at first sight thing. Relationships tend to take a long time to build up, and it also adds suspense, so bear with me. xD

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or its characters.

Mondays were never pleasant days for Spencer. He hated the starts of new weeks, even as a little boy. He would rise up in the morning by the sound of his alarm clock, then remember he was returning to an intimidating habitat of bullies and pretentious girls, and get up anyway.

Nowadays, there had been a lack of any challenging cases sent in for the team. Not that he was complaining. This weekend he was able to indulge in his reading, sitting on his velvet arm chair with a tome in his lap. He was even able to catch a few reruns of Doctor Who and hold a chat with the coffee girl for more than a minute.

But something bad always seemed to happen to await him on Mondays. Whether it be a pile of new cases to review, another surprise therapy session discussing Emily's death, paperwork waiting to be filled, or coffee stains.

Unfortunately, this Monday wasn't any different.

"Excuse me..excuse me, sir, I'm looking for Jason Gideon."

Reid stopped walking. His Mondays really were cursed. Of course, he didn't really believe that. Maybe he just let himself get bothered to easily on these days. Once again, the promising blue sky and lack of exhaustion in his body had fooled him. It wasn't the first person who had come to the FBI in search of one of the greatest profilers that ever existed. He looked down at his coffee, grimacing for a second.

Then he turned to face the stranger. She was a young girl, probably in her twenties. She looked like a University student, her hair pulled up in a messy ponytail.

Reid really despised telling the people that his mentor, his friend, had left. It makes it seem like he just ran away. He somehow just refused to believe that. It was one of the reasons the chess set still sat on his table. "Look, uh…"

"Do you work here?" she cut him off abruptly, her eyes light brown eyes fleeting.

The doctor nodded slightly. "Yeah, uh, I'm actually in the team Agent Gideon was in," he explained, clearing his throat and looking down. He really didn't want to go through this today, telling another friend of Gideon's that he didn't know where he had gone, but he was, in fact, gone. "Listen, I've really got work to do and..."

He wasn't sure what had made him so uncomfortable about her. Maybe it was the fact she knew Gideon and she reeling in unwanted memories he tried too hard to forget.

Maybe it was the way she was so fidgety and uneasy it made him feel the same way.

"My name is Amelia Hale, but you can just call me Millie. Listen, agent, this is an emergency." Her grave voice reminded him of robots he'd seen in his science fiction movies. Suddenly, the urgency in her tone made Reid realize this girl's situation could really be an emergency.

"What—What exactly is going on, Miss Hale?" He started to walk and she followed him.

"Jason knows…" she muttered, biting her fingernail. "I need to see Agent Gideon."

You and I both. He frowned. "He's…not really here anymore."

Millie stopped and Reid glanced back at her. He instantly regretted doing so. Her face morphed into such despair, the young agent didn't know how to react. "What?" she choked out, eyes wide.

"He left a couple of years ago." Reid gritted his teeth together. Without an actual goodbye, he just took off. Walked out of our lives.

The girl looked as if she were about to break down. "Oh God...he was the only one..." She trailed off, putting her hand on her forehead and shutting her eyes.

"What's this about..?" Reid prodded gently. She raised her gaze, trying to maintain composure.

Hesitating, the girl began to speak. "Fourteen years ago...my parents were murdered. Jason Gideon, he helped us...he took care of my older sister and I. He never found our parents' killer, but he found his accomplice and put him away I guess.." Millie inhaled sharply. "We moved after than and we haven't been bothered, really. Until last night. My older sister is missing. Everyone thinks she just ran off but I found this taped on our apartment door. On the inside of the door, agent."

Millie handed him a plastic bag, not looking at it. Reid winced. "I'm back and more bloodthirsty than ever, my love.." he read aloud and sighed. "Look, if you'd like, I'll see if I can get my team to—"

"You have to help me," she told him weakly, and it seemed as if she'd aged a good twenty years for a moment. "He's waiting."

As instructed, Millie stayed in the building, sitting on a waiting chair. She was nervous and couldn't cease squirming. Calm down, she told herself, attempting to clear her head with breathing exercises her sister had taught her. Fighting back tears that were threatening to pour, Millie shut out all thoughts of her sister immediately. She closed her eyes and found herself hoping Gideon would return.

Wherever he was.

He had made her sister and her feel safe and secure. She suddenly remembered his kind face and how he made everything alright, even though their parents were sitting in a bedroom, bloody and butchered.

She smoothed down her gray pencil skirt, blinking rapidly. What if they didn't take the case? What would happen to her sister? Where would Millie herself go? The murder had taken place in Pennsylvania, and she and her sister had moved here, yet still, he had still found them.

When she saw a tall, stern-looking man approach her, she immediately stood up, pressing her lips tightly together. That quick? Millie tried to smile, drawing in a breath. Maybe everything would work out like it should. She could already picture her sister's fresh, hot pancakes waiting for her on the kitchen table. Perhaps they would finish what Agent Gideon had started.

But her hope shattered almost as soon as it had come. She didn't even have to ask. The way he looked at her sympathetically, she already knew they weren't going to help her.

"Agent Hotchner," he told her and they shook hands. "I'm sorry, Miss Hale, but we are bound by jurisdiction. Unless we can get an invite from the DC P.D., we can't progress in this case. Come back with a lead detective that has the authority to request federal presence."

She had trouble speaking as a result of her throat's current constriction. "My sister…she's missing…he could be torturing her right now."

Agent Hotchner sighed and she knew it wasn't the first time someone had brought a situation like this. "Isn't it possible she's just playing a prank on you? And that she'd run off somewhere? She is, after all, over 18 years old right?"

Millie cringed. "Oh, no she'd never…no would ever do this. Not with this subject. Please, no one is going to believe me."

"I'm sorry, Miss Hale. There's nothing we can do right now. Why don't you go and talk to the police?"

How foolish she'd been to actually believe everything would be alright. "Agent Gideon…" she croaked out. "He…I need to find him. Can you tell me where he is..?"

The BAU chief closed his eyes and for a moment, Millie saw his face turn from solemn to poignant. "We honestly don't know. I'm sorry."

And he left her there, standing, looking so hopelessly lost.

A certain intrigued doctor called Garcia that night.

"Hey, uh, Garcia?"

"Yes, my sweet prince?"

"This may sound slightly weird, but can you search up one of Gideon's unsolved case files for me?"

There was a pause on the other line. "A strange request," she started cautiously, "but it shall be done." Reid smiled to himself, grateful she wasn't asking questions. He tried to remember the panicky girl's name. "One of the witness' names might have been Hale. Mary, Millie Hale. Something like that."

A few clicks later, she spoke up. "Nothing. It looks like that case wasn't ever filed. At least, not with Gideon in it." Garcia took another pause. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," he said quickly. "Just genuine curiosity."

Garcia chuckled, "Morgan told me about the girl that came in today. Is this about her? You know it's not your responsibility to-"

"What? No! Well, actually yes. Look, I just want to know if Gideon really was involved in a case that she was in," Reid explained hastily. The chatty analyst giggled. "Heh, alrighty my darling genius. Will that be all?"

He glanced down. "Er, what can you get me on the witness?"

"Mary Mille Hale?"

He shut his eyes tightly, struggling to remember. "Amelia Hale."

"I forgot how much you sucked at remembering things you've heard," Garcia told him smugly.

"Okey-doke, Amelia Hale. 23 years old, lives with her sister in DC in her sister's apartment. Amelia is an art student at Georgetown and her older sister, Briana, 28 years old. She's got a bachelor's degree in medicine and law and she works as a forensic nurse. And they are...oh...they're orphans." The sing-song tone of the spunky analyst's voice vanished abruptly. "God..their parents were murdered while they lived in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. They'd just gotten home from school and they found them..."

Reid thought for a moment. "How old were they when this happened?"

"Briana was fourteen, while Amelia was...nine. It looks like the murderer was never caught, but his possible accomplice was. Their aunt received custody of them, and it looks like they lived in peace in Mansfield for a while, and she died a year after they moved to DC together."

"How did she die?"

"A cardiac arrest."

"Thanks Garcia," Reid replied, and then hung up. He began to wonder if it was another case with no solid evidence that there was a crime. Reid recalled the obsessive compulsive Detective McGee, with the little notebooks. Was it a case like that?

Was there a case at all?

Millie stepped out of the taxi, making sure to pay the driver extra. He had, after all, drove her from Quantico to DC. She sauntered over to the police department, clutching that speck of hope that she refused to part with.

As she entered the police station, she looked around. "Excuse me.." she called softly. None of the cops even looked at her. Her petite figure was invisible with the uniformed cops that swarmed around her. "Excuse me," she said a little louder. One young officer with sandy blonde hair turned to her. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I'd like to speak to the person in charge," she told him, with more strength than she thought she had. The younger cop frowned. "Detective Sanders is pretty busy…"

"Please," Millie insisted. "It's a matter of life and death."

Hesitating, the cop led her through the crowds of officers to the detective's office. She fumbled with her fingers.

"Detective Sanders, someone's here to see you," announced the cop quickly and skidded off. The detective was old, perhaps in his fifties. Millie tried to smile. "And who're you?" he asked with forced patience, setting his papers down.

"Amelia Hale, sir. I'll cut to the point, since you're..ah..busy. I'm here because my sister is missing and I think the same person who murdered our parents fourteen years ago took her."

The detective simply stared at her, his eyes flashing. "Have you filed a missing person's report?"

"No, they wouldn't let me. They told me I had to wait a week—"

"And have you?"

"No, I haven't. I can't wait that long, sir, she could already be dead by then." She bit her lip harshly, aware of how ridiculous she sounded.

"Well, Amelie, what evidence do you have to support your theory?"

"It's Amelia," she corrected hastily. "And aside from the fact that my sister does not simply leave without telling me, I found this taped on the door of our apartment." She showed him the note. The detective looked at it for a few seconds and handed it back. "You are aware first of all, fourteen years is a long time and the killer might already be dead. Second of all, has it occurred to you that this may be a practical joke. Do any of your friends know your parents were murdered and the guy was never caught?"

She understood was he was implying. Her speck of hope was slowly withering away. "Well, yes, but—"

"Couldn't be possible your sister has just run off with some friends, or maybe her boyfriend?"

"She would never joke about something so serious—"

"And has it occurred to you, this note might not be implying your parents' murderer at all? It could very well mean some weird and slang confession of love to you or your sister from an admirer or a past beau. Or perhaps a neighbor that knows who you and your sister are and wanted to be funny. Or anyone really, who wanted to screw around with you."

"But, sir—"

"Or maybe, you just want attention, and forged the note yourself and are simply wasting my time."

"With all due respect, sir, I'm 23 years old, I would never do such a thing, and I know for a fact no one could leave such a note except for the murderer. My sister could be dead as we speak." She looked down, drawing in a deep breath. "Please, could you just have this tested for fingerprints?"

"That involves forensic analysis and the crime scene unit, and I don't believe there even is a crime," snapped the detective. "Let me be clear, I am not going to sacrifice precious manpower for this. I have more important work to do, Miss Hale, if your sister doesn't turn up within a week, then you may file a missing persons report and we can assume crime really has been committed."

"But sir, by then she'll be dead!" she objected frantically. "That's enough, Miss Hale. Officer Wright!" A scowling officer entered within a few seconds. "Escort this young lady out."

"I can escort myself out," she said lowly, swatting away the escort's hand. Without looking up, she strode out of the detective's office, shaking.