Arsenic and White Dresses {The Case}

[hotch]

when the devil wants to dance with you ,
YOU BETTER SAY NEVER

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because a dance with the devil might last you forever[/color][/font]
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Hotch stood in the meeting room. He had called the team together for a case. And he really REALLY didn't WANT to. Because it involved a teammate, and her family. Or, well, it COULD. It was a case of someone killing girls who were debutantes. Or, it appeared, debuatantes standing in the way of one PARTICULAR girl...a Jazzy LaMontagne.

He waited for them to file in, and then spoke.

Ok, folks, settle down. Thanks for showing up so fast. Last night, New Orleans PD found the body of a teenaged girl in an aqueduct under the Pontchartrain bridge. THis is the third body found in as many weeks and they need help.

He looked around to his team, seeing if anyone volunteered anything.

not a lot?WORDS
everyone TAGGED

template by LISA@GBBS, lyrics by immortal techniqueCREDIT
RAWRR! NOTES

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[SSA Mia Dearden]

Mia had taken the bus to work for once, mainly because she had not felt like wearing her leathers today. That meant she was able to carry her large cup of coffee with her to work, thankfully. In her lunch bag, was a thermos of peach iced tea for the rest of the day.

When she got the text that they had a case, she sighed and silently found a spot in the room and took a seat, reading the file and sipping her coffee.

She spoke up in her soft voice. "The debutante season started down in New Orleans three weeks ago. Deb season gets hectic as is, but I've heard in New Orleans, well, they're nine kinds of crazy about their debs."

[Hotch]

Hotch stood in his office, holding his coffee mug with both hands, staring out over the bullpen. He was willing himself not to put the palm of his hand on his head. His headache was worse today. Some days now, it was bad. Today it was worse. He had another appointment with a specialist next week. He’d never liked doctors much, but these days he found them intolerable. It didn’t matter how long ago they’d met with you – they asked the same questions: “Today’s date. . .?, Read the letters on the sign at the end of the hallway. . ., Rate your pain on a 10-point scale with ‘10’ being the worst. . .” and they always had a hand ready to write a prescription. The Bureau had tough regulations regarding medications allowed. Hotch had his own regulations. Hotch’s were harsher. He didn’t want to “subdue” or “reduce” the pain – he wanted it gone. He didn’t want to jump when a book fell to the floor. He didn’t want to cringe when an aide car went by, outside the well-insulated building. He just wanted things to be as they had been before.

He stopped himself in this train of thought. It inevitably led to thoughts of Haley, and those thoughts never led to his accomplishing anything. His eyes had been open but he hadn’t been attending to their input. He now focused on what he saw as he looked out over the bullpen. Watching his team typically made Hotch smile. Typically, he didn’t take the moments it required to do so. There were always so many other things to do. But today, he was trying to remember to live “in the moment.” He focused on the bullpen. Reid was introducing SSA Viv Raleigh to young Mia Dearden, and pointed to Constable Mackintosh’s desk. Derek gave Viv a professional smile. Hotch had needed to remind Morgan about intra-office harassment policy last month, as enforcing Bureau policies was part of his job. However, he also reminded Morgan the entire office needed his special connection with Garcia. Hotch recalled saying something to the effect of, So I won’t be hearing any of those terms of endearment you call one another. . .They had each smiled. Morgan understood. (It was code for Carry on).

Hotch overheard Reid as he noted, The Constable works at the INTERPOL office downtown sometimes; I think she is there today. You can meet her later. Hotch hoped he could catch her before they were wheels up for New Orleans. He needed her take on the ‘Debutante’ case.

[SSA Dr. Spencer Reid]

Spencer strolled into the meeting room. New colleagues were always good, and Hotch had wasted no time in throwing the new girl in. He wondered if anyone had called the Constable, but was certain that Dave would, for their budding romance was a secret to no one, even the usually-mindless genius.

He called home instead, telling Aimee that they had a case, and that he most likely wouldn't be home. He gave his permission for her little friend-but NOT her boyfriend-to come over, as well as for her to go over to the babysitter's the following day. He didn't know how, but he had been lucky enough to find Mrs. Webb, who didn't mind looking after both girls for longer periods of time. He trusted that Aimee was more responsible than she presented herself to be, and so he knew they would be just fine. He could imagine what the state of the apartment might be once Aimee had her sleepover, but he couldn't think of that right now. He hung up with a stern warning of "NO makeup on the baby", and turned to the case file that Hotch was handing as they all filed in.

This one made his stomach hurt. They always did when the involved children, actually. Espescially now that he was Daddy and Big Brother, he couldn't help BUT consider if DJ were one of the victims. And there was a period of time, right after her arrival, that Spencer worried if Aimee wouldn't end up as fodder in some creep's crawlspace.

This one looks- He sighed, not needing to go on. Everyone knew. It looked horrible.

[SSA Vivien Raleigh]

[OOC Note: Hotch-player, could you please not use yellow on the light background, it hurts when I was trying to read. Thank you!]

Vivien slunk out of her office, relatively tired despite the double-shot espresso that she had on her way to work and tried to smooth out the wrinkles on the inward curve of her stomach before she entered the meeting room. At the sight of the teenager in the photo, her heart sank and she frowned.

She picked up her case file and slipped into an empty seat, flipping it open to begin looking over the information they had, "Three in three weeks means he or she probably already looking for a new victim as we speak. What was found on the body? Any prints, fluids?"

[Constable Ainsley Rossi]

Ainsley was at her INTERPOL office, flipping through The Hip Highlander magazine, when actually she was meant to be researching a terrorist. But he was bloody boring, and the CIA had them in their sites, so whilst Scotland Yard and the CIA rowed about whom gets the man, Ainsley was busying herself with what all the most fashionable girls in Glasgow would be wearing this season. It seemed that shoes from Patrick Cox and grey jumpers from Marleybone High Street were just the THING to make a Scottish lass stand out amongst her peers. She wondered for a moment how much more she could shop without Dave having a heart attack, and then sighed when she realized they sold neither brand at any American stores. Damn.

Dave phoned then, and she briefly considered asking Dave if they could mail-order the pair of black patent heels from Patrick Cox. Then, he spoke, in his "serious" voice, and she perked up. He told her the BAU had a case, and since her boss was still on the phone with the "Damn bloody Yanks," (he was British), she sent him an email, telling him she was needed at the FBI office, and left, quickly.

She arrived at the BAU in a flash, and let herself into the conference room.

Sorry for my tardiness; INTERPOL and the CIA cannot get their intel co-ordinated. What'd I miss? She smiled, and sat, taking a file as she did.

STATUS # finished
FEATURING # open
WORD COUNT # 345
OUTFIT # here
CREDIT # IRONICALLIZE_IT @ CAUTION 2.0