Chapter Text
It was like standing at the top of the stairs and taking too big of a step. There's no ground beneath your feet, only enough time to register it before you're falling. Your stomach drops and then you're at the bottom of the stairs, ankle throbbing and tears prickling.
Except this time, I wasn't at the bottom of the stairs, I was in a lift. But I wasn't in a lift a moment ago, I was at home then. Something dinged and the doors opened.
It was an office, modern, lots of glass. Something bright pink caught my eye as it moved past my vision. I turned. Penelope Garcia. I caught her eye.
"Hi sweetness, can I help you?" She asked, walking over to me.
"I- I'm not sure. I don't know how I got here. I don't- Where am I?" I said as the panic stuck in my throat.
"Hey hey hey, it's alright. You're in the BAU office, in the FBI."
"Quantico?" I tried to figure out how the hell this was possible. Did I stumble onto the Criminal Minds film set somehow?
"Yep."
"Huh." I paused for a minute and Garcia just stood there, staring at me. "Weird question."
"Go for it." She replied.
"What year is it?" I knew that she had left the BAU at the end of season fifteen, and it aired in 2020. So in theory, Garcia shouldn't still be working here.
"It's 2012. Are you alright? Do you need to go to the hospital?" She asked, stepping closer to me.
"I don't know. I'm not supposed to be here."
"Can I call someone for you? Do you have family nearby, or friends?" She looked worried for me.
"No. There's no one. I'm not from here."
"England?" She asked.
"Yeah, the accent gave me away?"
"Mhmm." She nodded. "Can I at least call you a cab?"
"It's 2012," Season seven or eight. "What date?"
"January, 9th." Seven seven, then. I couldn't remember the specific episodes, not without a reminder.
"I need to talk to Agent Hotchner."
"Oh, alright." She looked confused. "He's in his office, this way."
Garcia headed through the glass doors, turning around to look at me every few seconds. Whether she was checking that I was still there, or that I wasn't doing anything suspicious, I'm not sure. As I followed her through the bullpen, I noticed Derek Morgan and Emily Prentiss stand up from their desks and move to walk with me. Garcia must have given them a look or something. Morgan had his hand hovering over his gun.
We climbed up the stairs in a strange sort of parade until Garcia knocked on one of the office doors. "Come in." A man's voice called out. When she pushed open the door, I saw Aaron Hotchner sitting behind a large wooden desk. "Garcia."
"This is-" She turned to me. "Sorry, I didn't ask your name."
"Olivia Martin. Liv."
"Right, this is Liv Martin. She asked to see you, sir." Garcia said, smiling softly at me.
"How can I help you, Miss Martin?" Hotchner asked. I stepped forward and took a deep breath.
"This might sound strange, but I think I can help you." I said.
"How's that?"
"I know things, I'm not sure how I know them. But the point is, I know things that can help you with your cases."
"We don't have any open cases at the minute, what exactly do you believe you can help us with?" Agent Hotchner said.
"I'm psychic." I lied. It was hard to believe, but the truth was even more impossible. "I can help you close cases quicker, find evidence and point you in the direction of the unsub. I can help."
"The way you're standing; arms by your side, head straight tells me you believe what you're saying. However, your shoulders hunched a little and you looked directly in my eyes when you said you were a psychic. You believe you can help, but you're lying about being psychic." It was impressive, and demeaning. The way he dissected my behaviour to reveal my lie.
"Truth is stranger than fiction." I said.
"Mark Twain." A voice came from behind me. I turned my head. It was Dr Spencer Reid. I smiled. "Although, the quote in another form can be attributed earlier to Lord Byron in 1823. Tis strange - but true; for truth is always strange; stranger than fiction."
"Alright, I'll give you the chance to prove it. But you have to prove your value to each member of the team before I even think about giving you access to current cases." Hotchner said.
"Perfectly understandable, sir." I replied.
"And I'll have Garcia run your name and prints through the system to make sure you aren't a risk."
"Happy to give my prints, sir." I nodded.
"Garcia, take Miss Martin to the conference room and get her prints. I want a complete file as soon as you have it." Agent Hotchner said.
"Your wish is my command." Garcia's reply made me smile.
"Prentiss, go with them. Stay with Miss Martin until I get there." He looked at Prentiss.
"Sure." She nodded.
"And Miss Martin?" He continued. "While you're waiting, you might as well start proving yourself to the team."
"Yes, sir." I said and the group disbanded.
Garcia and Prentiss led me into the round table room. The blonde woman gestured to a chair and I sat down. Prentiss stayed guarding the door. "Here." Garcia held her phone out in front of me. "Press your fingers down on the screen and hold it for a few seconds. And then do the other hand." I did as she asked. When the phone beeped, after my second hand, Garcia slipped her phone in her dress pocket. "Great. I'm gonna head to my office. I'll see you in a bit, sweetness." She smiled at me before heading out of the room.
When it was just the two of us, Prentiss moved away from the door and took a seat next to me. "Alright. So, Hotch wants you to prove to each of us that you have some kind of knowledge that can help. Dazzle me." She said. I thought for a minute. I wanted to give them each solid proof while being as minimal as I could; I didn't want to reopen too many wounds with people I wanted to work with. But I knew that I had to give them meaningful stuff, because only reciting case examples would make them think I was just good at research. I needed them to believe me. I took a breath and then spoke.
"Agent Emily Elizabeth Prentiss. You've wanted to leave the BAU since you got back after your Lazarus demonstration. Recently you've been thinking about, or are in the process of, buying a house. You think that by putting down roots, it will make you want to stay. Because you love this team. But everything is different. You're different." I said.
"You have my attention." It looked like she was purposefully trying not to give anything away with her body or her words.
"Agent Hotchner had you go first because he knows, as the only member of the team with long-term undercover experience, you're the best person to figure out if I'm some kind of spy. Or at least being duplicitous. You came back to the BAU because the man raising Declan called you. Declan needed help. Your team captured Ian Doyle, but someone else had abducted his son. It was his mother, Chloe. She did it for the money and to get back at Doyle. The team got Declan back in an exchange at the airfield. Declan for his father. Doyle was shot, so were Chloe and her partner. Doyle was killed in front of Declan."
"The only people who know about that are my team and the Senate Committee. Who are you?"
"I'm just a woman who knows too much. Do I need to keep going?"
"Yes. I don't quite believe you yet." Prentiss said.
"Alright. I'll bring out my trump card, then. You liked being Lauren Reynolds. There was a part of you that thought you could actually go off the grid, be with Doyle and raise Declan. Maybe have a mini-Emily running around too. But a bigger part of you knows that desire only exists as a fuck you to your mother, and because you desperately want a family. You never wanted Doyle. You just wanted what he represented. Freedom, escape and family." I finished. I watched as Emily absorbed everything I told her, and then I saw something in her eyes.
"I believe you." She said quietly. "I… uh, need a moment. I'll be outside the door."
"Okay. And for the record, I'm sorry. I feel like I'm gonna be saying that a lot today, but the only way I can think of getting you guys to believe me is to get personal."
"You're right. It is the only way. We're a distrusting group. I just need some time." She said before she left the room.
The absolute last thing I wanted was to hurt these people, who unknowingly helped me through a difficult time in my life. But I desperately wanted to have the chance to get to know them, be friends with them, and help them save lives. And to do that, I had to hurt them a little.
I spent the next half hour planning what I would say to each member of the team when they came. I knew Rossi would be the hardest to convince, so if I had the choice, I would save him for last. That way, he would know that the rest of the team all believed me. It would be another point in my favour.
Emily never came back into the room, but Garcia did. She was holding a case file and a steaming mug. "Here," She set the mug down in front of me. "I brought you some tea." She said the last word in an awful English accent that made me laugh.
"Thank you." I said as she sat down in the chair that Emily had left untucked from the table.
"Emily seemed off. Did you talk to her?"
"Yes. She said she believes me."
"Well then, Miss Mystic. Tell my fortune." She smiled.
"Why don't you tell me about the case file you managed to put together first?" I said. "And your theories." I added. I knew that the prints and name would have come up blank, or they would bring up a twelve year old girl called Olivia Martin from England. Either way, it was a mystery. And for once, for Garcia and the BAU, not one covered in blood and scattered with bodies.
"Your prints weren't in any system. And I checked them all." Despite the uncertainty, she seemed to be enjoying this. "There were over two hundred living Olivia Martins born in England. I narrowed it down to those in the south, because your accent can't possibly be from the north. A hundred and seventeen names left. At first, I was going to narrow it down again by birth year, but then I remembered that you asked me what year it is. You seemed surprised. And you said truth is stranger than fiction."
"You've been around profilers too long, Garcia." I smiled.
"So I was right not to focus on birth years?" She asked and I nodded. I couldn't help but be truthful. And if anyone was going to believe the full truth, it was Garcia. "Awesome sauce. Then I got rid of all the Olivia Martins who had been fingerprinted, because yours didn't bring anything up. I was left with fifty nine names. This is the part that took the time. I had to search through each name to match against descriptions, either from licences or photos on social media. I got rid of anyone without dark hair and blue eyes."
"How'd you know I don't dye my hair?" I asked, curious.
"Oh, honey. I know you dye your hair. It's black. But your eyebrows and eyelashes are both dark brown and I can tell you aren't wearing makeup."
"Penelope Garcia, you scare me." I said. "So how many Olivias did that leave?"
"Twenty three."
"Manageable." I nodded.
"But I don't know what I can do to narrow it down further without more information." She looked frustrated, like she was stuck on a really hard puzzle with no chance of solving it.
"Well then, just ask for more information. Or better yet, show me the files and I'll pick myself out." I said.
"When were you born?"
"February 26th." I replied easily.
"What year?" She raised her eyebrow at me. I huffed and chuckled at her.
"2000." My answer shocked her into silence.
"But- that would mean that you're twelve. That can't be right." She said eventually.
"I told you earlier. Truth is stranger than fiction."
"Time travel. You're an actual time traveller. That explains how you know things." She flipped open her file and began to search for the child Olivia Martin from this universe. "Here you are." She pulled out a photo of me as a kid.
"That's me." I smiled.
"You know this is insane, right?"
"Why do you think I tried to claim I was psychic?"
"Right." She nodded. "The team can't know."
"What?" I asked.
"They can't know about this until they trust you fully. God, I'm terrible at keeping secrets."
"Why can't they know?"
"Because they would send you straight to the psych ward. They would think that you've been stalking them. Once they realise you do know the future and they trust that you have absolutely no part in what happens, then you can tell them. But for now, you're a psychic who's not in any database because you are clean. Got it?"
"Got it." I nodded.
"And you're gonna need to tell me stuff. Whatever you were going to tell me to prove you're psychic. Because they're going to ask, when we're all done talking to you, so we can ascertain if you really are telling the truth."
"Okay. I'll be gentle since you already believe me. You were recruited to the FBI because you were the hacker The Black Queen. Your hacking signature was Happy Fun Meow Meow." I took a breath. "You think your parents' car accident was your fault because they were out looking for you when it happened. It isn't your fault, Penelope. It was an accident. A month or two ago, when your friend Monica was abducted, you were going to disband the support group you run. But you didn't because you know it does far more good than that one bad incident. You are an amazing person, Penelope. A rare gem in a world filled with dirt."
"You're sweet." She wiped her tears away before they fell.
"I mean it. You do so much good and you do it with a smile on your face. If I had a friend like you, I'd never let them go."
"Then we're friends." She smiled sadly and wrapped her arms around me.
"Thank you, Penelope." I said quietly, into her neck.
We were interrupted by Agent Hotchner. He came into the room and stood halfway between the table and the door. "Garcia, is she in the system?" He asked.
"No, sir. She's clean as a whistle." She replied.
"Okay. You can head back to your office now." Agent Hotchner took her chair when she left the room with a wave. "It looks like both Agent Prentiss and Garcia believe you."
"I guess it's your turn now?" I asked.
"Yes."
"And you're not going to go easy on me because you prioritise the safety of your team above almost everything else. I'm a potential safety risk." I stated.
"Yes." He said again.
"You're worried your job makes you a bad father. You don't have to worry. You're his hero, and every moment you spend with Jack is far more precious than if you stayed at home all day." I began.
"You need to try harder, Miss Martin. A quick search and time spent studying me could've told you that." He said.
"Coaching Jack's soccer team with Rossi is more than a lot of dads do." I could see the vein throbbing in his neck at the mention of his son, so I moved on. "You worked on the Boston Reaper case for a decade after Shaunessy sent you home, building a profile. Because it was your first case as lead profiler and the killings stopped, seemingly without reason." He sighed.
"Tell me something nobody else knows, and I'll consider believing you." He said.
"Fine. When Foyet was in your apartment, right before he started stabbing you, he said that profilers believe if an unsub is impotent, they'll use a knife. He told you he wanted to change the way you profile. Wanted to prove to you that just because he used a knife, doesn't mean he was impotent. Later, in the hospital, you told Emily you didn't remember him saying anything to you." I avoided looking Aaron in the eyes. I didn't know if Foyet had sexually assaulted him or not, nothing was shown in the series, but there was a major debate in the fandom. I thought that the only way Foyet's speech made sense is if he did something to Aaron to prove he wasn't impotent, but there was no evidence for or against.
It felt different. Now that he was a real, breathing person sat in front of me. Before, there was a screen between us and I knew it was an actor playing a part. But now, speculating over the possible assault of the man sitting in front of me, made me feel nauseous.
"Alright." He nodded. "If you pass with the rest of the team, we'll have a meeting to decide whether we think it will be beneficial to use you as a consultant. You're free to walk around now. Talk to everyone by six o'clock."
"Yes, sir. Would it be okay if I went outside for a smoke break?" I asked.
"As long as you take someone with you. You'll need their I.D. to get back into the building. I don't know how you got in without a visitors pass." He said.
"Okay."
"JJ's been working all day. Maybe find her, take her out for a break." He suggested.
"Sure." I nodded and followed him out of the room. As I was looking for Agent Jareau's office, I noticed a pattern. I was calling the agents by their full titles, in my head and out loud. But after I talked to them, convinced them, I called them by their first name. Hmm. Was it trauma bonding? I chuckled aloud.