Disclaimer: I do not own or in any way profit from Criminal Minds. If I did the story would proceed a bit differently. In fact, it may have proceeded as found below. :-)

Notes: This story will mess with the timeline a bit. It is an AU story. Because I thought the writers were a bit condescending when they wrote in the geeky Kevin as Penelope's boyfriend. Hello, have they heard that opposites attract? I hated the whole Kevin thing.

And how many of you thought that they had really blown it when they didn't develop something from the famous "Hotch Rocket" line? Or how about in Season 1 when she asked Hotch, "Who can say no to me?" and he smiled at her? You will find references in the story from the first two season's of CM, but it's all taking place much later. And I'm redoing the whole "Beth" relationship, because honestly, its just predictable and boring. Hotch needs some levity, and who could provide it better?

Anyway, I hope you enjoy. I have many chapters written already so this shouldn't be one that just falls short of finishing with no conclusion. *crosses fingers* (at least I hope.)

Chapter 1

She explained it once to Morgan after she was shot. "… everything happens for a reason… if I lose faith in that then nothing in my life makes sense."

She knew the reason she'd gone off the rails with hacking was so that she would be miraculously transported into this job with the bureau so that she could make a difference in the world. And probably she'd lost her parents to pave the way for that. She missed them, God but she missed them, but she knew that she wouldn't be there at the bureau today if they were still here. She could make sense out of a lot.

But life was making less and less sense every day. She was quirky, no one knew it better than she did. But she had this "goodness scale." She measured the good in people. Everyone had some goodness, everyone. And her adopted family all measured high on the scale, they were 8's and 9's, her Derek was definitely a 9. But one person was a 10. Aaron Hotchner. There was a man who never seemed to have a selfish thought. Oh he was impersonal, and serious, but she'd never seen him in a truly self indulgent moment. The rest of them all indulged themselves, including herself. But even the one thing that made him exceedingly happy (his son) was still all about his love for someone else.

She'd watched him over the years, struggling between being a family man and trying to save the world. She'd watched as his wife eventually gave up on him and became resentful. She'd watched as he'd cared for the team including herself. She'd watched him in the bomb incident in New York (over and over she'd watched it in fact), she'd seen him loose his friend there. She'd seen his demeanor after receiving his divorce papers. She'd seen him through the blinds crack an ever illusive smile as he watched his son on video. She'd seen him struggle with almost losing his hearing, and taking responsibility for things he couldn't possibly control. Then he was stabbed, and had to send the ex-wife that he still adored far away with his son. And that was almost more than she could bare to see.

Now Haley was dead and Hotch had seemed so broken and guilty; and she was unraveling. He masked it now of course. But, she couldn't find a reason for one very good man to suffer so much and so nothing in life made sense. Her downhill spiral started a year ago, she'd been on her monthly tour of the cemetery, leaving flowers on the neglected graves sites, because really, everyone should be remembered. And then she'd seen him. He was standing over Haley's grave and crying. She wanted to comfort him, but that wasn't her place, and she didn't feel that she should be witnessing such a personal moment. She turned and walked quickly away to the opposite side of the lot but not before seeing him mouth the same thing over and over, "I'm sorry." She'd leaned against a tree, slid down to the ground and sobbed.

The whole team had seen the fizz in her bubbly personality going flat. But she couldn't explain it to anyone. Derek would think it was some crush thing and laugh or try to fix it. She was quirky, everyone would try to find a rational type reason that this mattered so much, except Reid. He understood; his mind worked differently than the rest. He understood her need (even if he couldn't quite personalize it himself) to make sense of this. He'd taken on his little crusades as well and he got it. He'd encouraged her to find someone to talk to about it. She'd been scared, when the bureau found out that you were seeing someone professionally they started questioning your ability to do your job. But she was the wizard of the information highway so she'd suppressed their every avenue to find out that she was in therapy. That is all until hurricane Kevin.

The nosy little prick couldn't take the rejection when she'd stopped seeing him and was like her cyber-stalker. She hadn't realized of course since he wasn't keeping tabs on her merely by hacking into her computers. She'd squelched any information regarding her therapy so quickly she had no idea that he'd obtained anything about it. But he'd followed her of course and tapped into the database of the group of therapists in the office where she went once per week.

Knock, Knock, Knock. "Sir? Do you have a minute?" The slime had waited until she was out of the office and headed straight for the unit chief's office.

Aaron Hotchner raised his head to look at the man with the thick glasses and mismatched tie and shirt. "What can I do for you Mr. Lynch?"

Kevin slithered into the Special Agent's office. "Sir, I've come across some information that I think you should be aware of."

"I'm listening." Hotch could barely stand to look at this man for very long, unsure why. So he continued to peruse the information spread already across his desk.

"Well, it's about technical analyst Penelope Garcia." Kevin seemed to bounce back and forth from foot to foot as he said it.

Hotch put his head up then, "What about Garcia?"

"Well it's all right here Sir, I'll let you look at it for yourself." With that, he dropped a file on Hotch's desk and beat it toward the elevator.

Hotch picked up the fairly thin folder, and as he opened it Rossi walked in. "What did that little weasel want?"

"I'm just looking into it now." Rossi started to walk closer and Hotch snapped the folder shut. "What's on your mind Dave?"

"Oh, I sent you an email, it's an old case of mind, serial rapist up for parole. Take a look and give me your opinion."

"I'll get back to you by the end of the day." Hotch's eyes returned to his desk, longing to look back into the folder but unwilling to share the contents even with Rossi until he knew what it was.

"Ok then, I'll let you get back to your stack there." Rossi turned and walked out closing the door behind him.

Hotch opened the folder, not much was listed there. The name of a crisis counselor in DC, dates that Penelope Garcia had appointments with the counselor, and proof of payments for said appointments. Hotch knew that counseling obtained by bureau employees was to be reported, and this hadn't been, but he also knew that this didn't come through proper channels and that Lynch had probably obtained the information questionably.

Hotch made a few calls and knew that the marrow would see Lynch packing up and moving on. Then taking a deep breath, he thought about how to proceed from there. Closing his eyes he knew that he would have no other choice no matter how much he regretted it. He took a deep breath and dialed Garcia.

Her less than normally chipper voice came on the line, "Yes boss?"

"Garcia, when you have a moment I need you to stop by my office."

"Sure," she said with concern and then disconnected the line.

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Knock, Knock. "You wanted to see me Sir?"

"Garcia please come in and close the door." Wanting to make this less of a reprimand for his obviously already distressed team member he motioned her over to the sofa and pulled a chair to the opposite side of the coffee table.

Feeling more than cautious, Garcia sat and remained silent.

Resting his elbows on his legs as he leaned forward, Hotch clasped his hands entwining his fingers and began to speak, "Penelope… it has been brought to my attention that you have sought help from a mental health professional." He tried to keep his voice as low and gentle as possible.

Her eyes raised to his for a moment and then lowered again immediately to the coffee table. "Yes Sir, I have." She knew she'd been caught, but how?

He could visibly see her withdraw and acknowledged that if it were physically possible she would shrink into the sofa and disappear. Wanting to be an encouragement, he rose from his chair and moved around the coffee table and sat on it facing her. He remained silent and picked up her hand from where it rested next to her on the sofa. Then he continued, "Penelope, if you felt you needed help to sort through some kind of crisis or even just feelings, there is nothing at all wrong with that, in fact it's admirable. But you are aware of the disclosure policy within the bureau."

She sat quietly saying nothing but did give an ever so slight nod.

"Penelope, fill out the form, as it should have been filled out, and put it at the bottom of my inbox. Do you understand?"

Recognition of his meaning dawned and she looked at him with tear-filled eyes and nodded.

"Since it is me that you turned the form in to, rather than your IT Supervisor, it is me that will be advised of your progress as it is monitored by a bureau psychologist."

She felt mortified, "Yes Sir."

"You will have to sign a release of information with your current counselor, but I will do my utmost to preserve and respect your privacy in this. I didn't set up these policies, and in some cases I am not sure that they are warranted. Unfortunately, that doesn't invalidate them." He tried to make eye contact, but he could see that she was unwilling to meet his imploring stare. "Penelope, this team is much more like a family than coworkers. You know if there is any way we can support you or help you, you need only ask."

"I know that," it was barely a whisper. She finally found some resolve in herself. "I'm not made that way." Her statement was clear, said with a little force, not a lot but a little.

"Penelope, do you know how much you matter to all of us here?" He wondered if there was a way to win this battle.

"Probably about the same as how much all of you matter to me. I'd do just about anything for any one of you, and I've let some of you help me before. But it's not in my nature to ask, it's not in your nature either. And even if it was, no one can help with this; I have to figure it out on my own." Tears began to slip down her cheeks then, and feeling helpless, he rubbed and patted the hand that he held between his own two.

His mind always moving fast where human interaction was involved, he read people the way that she read binary code. He thought of a way to change this dynamic. "It's not in my nature, that's true. But I'm in a position in my life where I need to make some changes. If I do need to ask for help, I hope you'll be among the ranks of who I might call."

Now he had her full attention, "Of course I would be. You know I'd do anything for you in a heartbeat."

He gave her one of his rare smiles as he leaned to the side to grab a few tissues for her. With the one hand still holding hers he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. "I hoped you would be." Releasing her hand he stood as she mopped at the streaks on her face and gave her nose a slight blow. "Now, I'll let you get back to work and I'll work my way to the bottom of my inbox tomorrow." He looked at her making sure that she caught his meaning.

"I'll make sure that you complete all your pending reports Sir."

He was standing by door now ready to open it. He waited for her to finish wiping her tears. When she looked up at him, she still had a slight black smear by her eye. She was within arm's distance and he reached for her tissue, he reached up and wiped the smudge away, and then nodded.

She nodded then and he opened the door. "Thank you Garcia, I appreciate your help with this."

The way he covered for her was more than noble. "Anytime Sir, glad I could help." What she really meant was Thank you so much for your help. But she could see in his eyes that he knew that and it was an unspoken understanding between them.

Rather than helping her to right things though, all this did was further distort her world. He was the one who had suffered unspeakable tragedy, and he was the one to look after her and comforted her. Things couldn't be more out of balance in Penelope's universe.