I usually include my authors notes at the bottom of a chapter, but I thought it would be best I introduce this story.

This will be a collection of one-shots, but this first chapter serves as an introduction to the character that I will be using to look at the team and their stories. The chapters after this one will be much more team-centric, but I thought it best to introduce this character first. If you would prefer to skip this chapter, feel free. The setting and season will change by chapter, and I will be sure to inform you of which episode and/or season that the one-shot is set in. For this chapter, it is set in Season 4. I hope that you enjoy.

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"That's it! Just tighten up that elbow just a little bit. There you go. Are you ready?" Hunter Langdon asked his son, who was cautiously adjusting his stance, staring at his father's hand. Langdon had a white baseball clutched between his fingers, his worn hands running over the textured stitching until his son nodded. At that point he wound up and launched the ball forward, watching closely as Neal, his oldest son, swung the bat in an ark, narrowly missing the pitch. Without a moment of hesitation, he smiled, and reached for another ball, while calling out a word of praise.

"Good form, just remember, keep your eyes on the ball," he reminded, to which the thirteen year old rolled his eyes. The true response came in his actions, taking the bat back up and digging his back foot into the ground with a twist of his sole.

"Thanks, coach- I mean, dad," he muttered with a sarcastic drag in his tone. Langdon merely rolled his eyes as well, coupled with an exaggerated sigh, mocking his son for a few brief moments before cracking a smile and holding the ball up at eye level.

"You better be ready for this next pitch. Watch that elbow," he reminded once more, and pulled his arm back in preparation the second he saw Neal hold his elbow a bit closer to his body. Just as he was about to twist his body back to pitch, he felt his phone vibrating from the holster on his hip, and nearly faltered. It was almost as though he could feel the frown bite into his face, but he finished the pitch, watching the ball fly towards his son before he reached down and grabbed the phone on the third ring.

"Langdon," he answered shortly, casting an eye to his son, who had once again swung and met nothing but empty air. His son was already pulling the bat back up to bear when he noticed his father on the phone, and Langdon almost winced when he saw the boy's shoulders sag. He would have loved to reach out in that moment and provide some sort of comfort, but he had to focus on the woman's voice speaking into his ear for the moment.

"Good morning, Hunter," the familiar voice chirped cheerfully, her sunshine practically shining through the phone. On a normal day, the sound of Penelope Garcia's voice would be enough to at least crack a smile across his face, but Langdon had been promised at least this one weekend home. With the BAU, however, things were never so cut and dry.

"Good morning to you too, Ms. Garcia," he forced, trying to at least partially mimic her cheerfulness. At this name, his son deflated even further; the boy was more a young man than anything, and he had come well accustomed to the phone calls that stole his father away for days at a time. Turning so that he didn't have to face the shame of his son's crestfallen face, Langdon listened in for the details of the work he knew was soon to come.

"I know, I'm sorry, it's supposed to be your weekend off," Garcia murmured with a tone of sympathy, pausing only slightly, as though to mourn his lost time off. Within seconds she was back in control, the usual commanding and authoritative tone, all business. "As I'm sure you figured out, they have another case today. This time it's all the way out in Phoenix, but from what they can tell, this should only take a few days. Hotch is hoping for takeoff in about two hours."

"She'll be ready, as always," Langdon responded somberly, referencing the jet that he would fly the team out in. "And I'll call Delphinus to let him know." At the mention of his copilot, Garcia was silent for only a moment, her fingers tapping across her keyboard for a few seconds before her voice came again.

"Thanks again, Hunter. Have a good rest of your day, and a safe flight. And please, call me Penelope," she pleaded, stretching out the ongoing joke between the two. With his usual grin masked by the solely verbal connection, Langdon responded, feeling his lips tug upwards into a small smile.

"Thank you, and have a wonderful rest of your day as well, Ms. Garcia," he finished, taking the phone from his ear and hanging up. As soon as the line was dead, any traces of a smile were gone as he turned to face Neal, who had already dropped his bat to the ground, kicking the toe of his shoe into the grass.

"Hold on, let me guess; you have to go to work?" Langdon's son quipped bitterly, looking up at his father with an acidic glare. While the look bit right down into the very depths of his heart, Langdon knew better than to show his son how much the cruel words struck him. Giving the only halfhearted smile that he could muster, Langdon picked up his glove from the ground and gestured to the few balls that had rolled across the lawn with an open palm.

"You got it, kid. Make sure to pick those up before you head in. I'm leaving in ten minutes, and I'll be down to say goodbye to you and Cassie in just a few," he promised, sliding his phone back into place on his hip and hugging the glove to his chest, trying to put on a positive face for his son. It was clear that the teen was having none of it, and his eldest child only turned away from him and trudged across the lawn, dragging his feet as he hunted down the balls that he hadn't hit.

Feeling his lips purse together, Langdon turned back towards the house, running the list of items in his go-bag through his mind. He would check the forecast for Phoenix before hitting the road, possibly tossing an extra hat in his bag or a bottle of sunscreen before he went, or exchanging a pair of jeans for a pair of shorts. With the future racing in his mind, Langdon entered his home and closed the door behind him, just to be halted in place by his youngest child running up to him in a flurry of activity.

"Dad! Look what I made!" The younger girl cried out, holding up a measly scrap of paisley fabric with stuffing spilling from sloppy seams. It took all of Langdon's effort to keep his eyebrows from knitting together in confusion, and rather than grimace, he smiled, leaning down to admire the piece.

"Wow, that's beautiful!" He exclaimed, feeling his heart pick up as Cassie smiled, pulling the stuffed creature close to her chest. Sewing had been the subject of her interests recently, and her ten year old hands still had some difficulty maneuvering a needle with any true skill. But to see the passion ignited in her eyes was more than enough for the father, knowing that the poor girl's excitement would fall the moment he let her know he was leaving. Fortunately, he was spared from having to tell her at the moment, for she turned on her heels and darted back towards the living room, crying out as she went.

"I still have to sew on his eyes! But this is the best kitten I've made so far!" Her voice faded as she went, and Langdon could only shake his head at the enthusiasm.

Alright, so it's a cat. I'll have to remember that. He made the mental note, stashing it away if she were to try and show him her handiwork once more. Trotting up the stairs, he made his way to the master bedroom, and walked into the closet without a moment of hesitation. The small black duffel bag laid at the bottom of his side of the closet, stuffed with clothes and toiletries, ready to pick up and go within five minutes. As he pulled the bag out, he grabbed his phone back from his hip, and dialed the number of his copilot. His partner picked up after only two rings, the canned voice sounding cheerful.

"Hey Hunter, what's good?" The younger man asked this in a relaxed tone of voice, to which Langdon sighed deeply.

"And a good morning to you too, Delphinus."

"Aw man," the copilot muttered, his voice automatically dipping in what Langdon could only identify as disappointment. It was clear that Delphinus had discovered the purpose of the call in less than a sentence. "Really? It's Saturday. They promised us today off. They actually promised us the whole weekend off. We better be getting paid extra for this." Sympathetic to the emotional response, Langdon pressed the phone to his ear with his shoulder, and unzipped the bag, checking that everything had been restocked from his last trip.

"I know," he responded evenly, content with the items in the bag as he glanced over them. "But we have to be ready for takeoff in about two hours. You know the drill, be there in thirty. We have to fuel up and restock the pantry. Cleaning staff went through after last run, so we should be ready to go in no time. I'll see you there," Langdon finished curtly, keeping it as businesslike as possible to discourage Delphinus from taking any shortcuts on the way to the office. A crackly sigh came over the phone, but it was clear that his coworker had relented to the reality of the situation. It wasn't as though this was their first sudden call away from home, but the younger man was always a bit frustrated.

"Alright, alright. I'll be there. Seeya soon." With that, the line went dead, and Langdon let the phone drop on the bed. At the same time, he found himself satisfied with the stock in the bag, and draped the straps over his shoulder. With a quick check at the clock, Langdon realized bitterly that he only had another seven minutes to say goodbye to his children, and break the news to his wife.

Moving down the stairs, he had to dodge Cassie again as she darted towards the kitchen, the same wad of fabric clutched in her fingers. Her whole body was just a blur as she went by, so Langdon pressed on, following to the kitchen, where he knew his wife would be preparing a large lunch for the family. By the smell of it, the classic scents of grilled cheese and tomato soup were threatening to lift him to ecstasy. As always, a flash of sorrow filled him as he remembered that he wouldn't be here to spend the afternoon with his family, and didn't know quite when he would be returning.

In light of this, he put on a brave face, the same narrow smile he had pushed to near perfection when it came to breaking bad news. Dropping the bag to the floor so he could at least see a single expression of love that wasn't tainted with disappointment, he called out to his wife.

"Hello, beautiful."

His smile broke even wider as she turned, the dark brown curls of her hair flying up in the air as she turned, her earthy eyes sparkling with a joy that no facial expression could ever truly portray. She turned her attention away from the skillet that sat on the stove top, where a grilled cheese sandwich was sizzling in a pool of butter, just how Langdon liked it. Her gait was cheerful as she made her way up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist as he leaned in for a kiss. In that moment, all he could do was savor the sensation of her lips against his, the tender softness of rose petals against his skin, sending sparks of heat radiating through his body.

Breaking their lips apart, Langdon was able to cherish the warmth on Diana's face, basking in her brilliant beauty. It took a few moments for him to gather the words, not wanting to fracture the moment with his bad news. But they came, spilling easily and naturally, rehearsed, just as he had said a hundred times before.

"Listen, Diana, I just got a call, and the team has a case out in Phoenix. It's urgent. I need to leave now. I'm really, really sorry," he started, feeling the warmth turning to ice as she pulled away, all of that joy slipping out of her visage like sand through outstretched fingers. Unfortunately, it was an expression he was all too accustomed to seeing, and it didn't quite sting his heart like it used to, but it still hurt something terrible.

"I understand, Hunter, it's alright. I just thought we'd finally have a few days with just the family. No work, no caseload, no contracts, nothing. You promised." Those last words were so broken, it was like shards of glass falling on Langdon's ear. Taking a deep breath, he nodded, acknowledging his faults, trying to cushion the delivery ever so slightly.

"I know, that's what I thought, I really, honestly thought I would have this whole weekend just to us. Just our family. But some families out in Arizona need the team. Delphinus is already on his way in. This should be a short one. They'll have to call in one of the reserve pilots next week though, because I'll take it off, vacation time, just for us. We deserve it." He promised this with forced energy, glad to see Diana's shoulders relax at this promise. She pursed her lips, turning back to the stove where the grilled cheese was sitting, and grabbed a piece of tinfoil on the way.

Within thirty seconds, Langdon felt his wife pressing the wrapped sandwich against his chest, and her lips pressing against his cheek.

"Just go do what you do best, hun. Be safe, alright? Call me before you take off, and call me when you get there. And tell Delphinus hi for me, and tell him the kids miss seeing him come around. I love you," she finished with a whisper, and Langdon leaned down and pushed his lips against hers. It would be days before he felt the sensation again, and it was a gesture that he always hungered for.

Breaking away for the last time, he went and grabbed his bag from the floor, pulling it onto his shoulders. A few seconds later, the car keys were in his hands, and he was headed out the door, ready to head to Quantico.

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Standing at the entrance to the plane, Langdon put on his business smile, straightening his shirt as SSA Aaron Hotchner climbed the steep flight of stairs into the BAU jet. The dark-haired man was always the first aboard, and would always take a few minutes out of his day to speak to Langdon, something the man was always grateful for. More than that, the Unit Chief usually made the effort to bring both pilot and copilot a small gift, one that was always well-appreciated.

Today was no exception. As the agent climbed on board, Langdon welcomed him with a large smile, and the usual greeting that the two shared, just as ritual as his phone calls with Penelope Garcia.

"Good morning, Agent Hotchner. Today we will be flying a nonstop flight to Phoenix, Arizona, landing at Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport." Although Langdon knew that the agent was already well informed on the flight, it was always best to try and make the man crack a smile. Today it worked, and the agent's lips pulled slightly upwards as he held out the small cardboard carrier. In the carrier were two medium cups of coffee, still steaming warm, the usual offering that was made to Langdon and his copilot.

"Please, call me Hotch." That was the only response that Langdon ever got, and it was what he was satisfied with. It was tempting, if nothing else, to cave in and refer to the strong agent in a much more informal manner. But his entire career and childhood had been built on a strong foundation of respect, and even as an adult, he always insisted on the formalities. The entire team had practically bullied him by this point, some even begging him to call them by their first names. Langdon never wavered in his habits, and only cast Hotch a brief smile in response.

"Thank you for the coffee. Delphinus would thank you, but he's locked himself in the cockpit. He insists the cleaning staff did something with his seat, and he won't stop until he's fixed it. How's your boy, by the way?" Langdon asked this with genuine interest. Both men were nearly the same age, but Jack was considerably younger than Langdon's own children. After so many years of flying with one another, there wasn't much they didn't know about one another's families, especially as the senior agent was always the first on the jet.

"Jack's just fine," Hotch replied, a rare warmth creeping into his voice. "He's told me that he wants to be a mathematician when he grows up. There's something about acing a math test that just gets him so excited," Hotch explained passionately, and Langdon felt pride rise up in his chest. His own boy, Neal, was the same way; unrequited passion when he slipped into a niche of talent.

"That's wonderful to hear," he expressed to the agent, but then sobered as he looked down at the briefcase clutched in Hotch's hand, beside the black duffel bag that held nearly the same contents as his own go-bag. Swallowing, he stared back up into Hotch's eyes, and they were stone cold once more.

"This is a bad one," the man said, sparing any elaboration. Langdon heard enough gruesome things when he went back to check on his passengers, and he never asked to hear any more from the team members. The nature of his job was to be a pilot, and nothing more. As a contract pilot for the FBI, he did have security clearances, but it was a matter of both needing and wanting to know. He could hear all he ever wanted to about the murders from the local news stations in the hotels that he stayed at; he had no cares for the psychology behind why one man would slaughter families for his own pleasure.

When Hotch gave the bad news, that the case was particularly tough, there was nothing that Langdon could do. He expected as much for this one; he wouldn't be called off of his break if it wasn't a matter of urgency. Today he nodded, the only professional response that he could ever muster to face a man as strong as the one before him.

"Well, best of luck to you. The rental vehicles are already arranged, and will be waiting once we land. Enjoy the flight, Agent Hotchner." The agent nodded respectfully back in response, and moved into the body of the jet, where the real workspace was.

Now Langdon had the chance to glance down at the coffee, relief filling him. He needed the energy boost; Diana's grilled cheese had been devoured on the way, and he was already longing for a snack. The coffee would do for now, and he could always grab snacks out of the well-stocked pantry on board during the flight. Moving back to the door that had been closed, he smacked his knuckles against the surface and called to his copilot.

"C'mon Phinny, let me in. Boss brought coffee," he enticed, knowing little else would draw the feisty young man from the fit he was in over his seat. It took a few moments, but eventually the door did open, and the twenty-four year old peeked his head through the gap, eyeing up the coffee cautiously. He had a whine in his voice when he spoke, one that Langdon heard far too often.

"They messed with my seat. It doesn't feel right. It didn't need cleaning. It's not as soft anymore. I'm not comfortable. I can't fly like this." While the miniature tantrum was annoying, Langdon hoped to silence the younger man with the coffee now so that he could welcome the rest of the team on board. Holding out the cup as a peace offering, Langdon launched into an apology for something far out of his control.

"Listen, I know they messed with it, and I'm sorry. We can talk to them about not touching your seat anymore, alright? Just take your coffee and try to get comfortable." Once more, he held out the coffee, to which Delphinus furrowed his brows, before reaching out a hand to snatch the warm cup eagerly. After raising it to his lips, he glanced at Langdon with a mischievous smile.

"Y'know, I could take your seat-"

"Not a chance," Langdon cut him off, shaking his head. Delphinus had the skills, that was for sure, and had done plenty of solo flights. But this was Langdon's turf, and while he often yielded to the eager boy in the air, there was nothing more satisfying than a smooth takeoff and landing. With a sigh, Delphinus shook out his hair, letting the long blonde locks fall into his eyes as he retreated back into the cockpit with his coffee. Once he disappeared, there weren't even the slightest hints of further argument.

Shaking his head, Langdon took a few steps back to the entrance of the jet, and watched as the young doctor climbed the stairs, his brows pinched in his usual look of concentration, one that Langdon had come to expect.

"Good morning, Doctor Reid," he greeted, to which the agent looked up, shoulders relaxing slightly at the greeting. That was another small moment of satisfaction to Langdon's job; it didn't take a profiler to see when someone was stressed, it only took a friend, or in this case, a father. There was no hiding tension or nerves from the seasoned pilot, and it was always pleasant to know that his welcome was enough to relax the agents, even for just a moment.

"Have you seen the latest model of this jet? Developed by Boeing, the revolutionary technology incorporates the latest advances in metallurgy to construct a lightweight frame that is able to withstand five times-" Reid rambled on, and Langdon listened with interest. Just as with the other team members, the doctor was just as predictable. Instead of some formal greeting, Langdon's ears were always met with some statistic on planes, flying, or the weather in the region of their destination. While the information didn't always adhere to his mind, he always had a keen interest in what Reid had to say. Usually their interactions didn't surpass the exchange of such knowledge, Langdon very rarely able to provide something new to the youngest team member. Today was one such occasion, but he made sure to at least stow away the name of the newest model so he could look into it, and maybe beg for some additional funding.

Not more than a minute after Reid had disappeared into the heart of the plane, Agents Morgan and Prentiss arrived at the steps to the jet, laughing over something or another, shoving at the bottom steps to try to beat one another up. Morgan won, as always, and gave Langdon a friendly slap on the shoulder before the pilot could muster up an adequate welcome. Prentiss, on the other hand, actually cast him a smile and greeted him.

"Good morning, Hunter. How long is our flight today?" She asked, letting Morgan rush in ahead of her, only shaking her head in defeat. Langdon smiled, calling up the estimation from the back of his mind.

"We should be there in about six hours, Agent Prentiss. The wind will be working against us today, but we should have a smooth flight." Finishing with a smile, he welcomed her in just as the familiar, yet weary face of Agent Rossi came into view. The Italian was always brief in his mannerisms, and just as Morgan had, he nodded in response to Langdon's greeting. The pilot looked down the stairs as the last member, the blonde-haired agent, made her way up the steps, juggling a phone. Langdon knew well enough by now not to bother her- she was likely on the phone with either her husband or the sitter, trying to arrange for her boys to have another night alone.

Her, Langdon let go. He would always check on them through the flight, making sure they knew the general status, and time left until destination. He would always let them know if they were approaching bad weather, or if there was nothing but smooth air ahead. He was a pilot, and he took care of the passengers, the ragtag family that the BAU had become, as well as he possibly could.

Checking that all agents were on board, Langdon checked his watch, and as always, the agents were right on time. Not a minute to spare, Langdon forced open the door to the cockpit, and settled into the seat. It conformed to his body, every single control just where it was supposed to be. Delphinus was seemingly settled in, coffee cup attached to his lips as though it were a part of him.

"Alright, Phinny, it's time for wheels up," he prompted, which forced the younger of the two men to set down his coffee cup and pull up his headphones. The two had their comfortable routine, complete with Delphinus's pet name, and would transition smoothly into the air, just like hundreds of flights before.

As always, in the back of his mind, Langdon knew that the team was already hard at work just feet away from the cockpit door, opening their files, settling down into the seats. They would stare at gruesome photographs, glance down at foreign maps, analyzing and studying up until the very minute the wheels touched ground again. There would be jostling for coffee, there would be talking, there would be patchy video calls with their tech analyst. But those were all background noise, or no noise at all. Hunter Langdon had one job; fly the plane. And while the six people behind him would profile, he would let them soar through the clouds without a second thought. They were profilers, and he was a pilot, and nothing would ever take that away from him.

Thank you all so much for reading! I hope that you enjoyed. If you have any questions, comments, critiques, or concerns, feel free to drop a review or shoot me a PM. My inbox is always open! Thank you again for reading, and have a wonderful day.