A/N: Extremely AU! Set 3 years before the show started but may contain character spoilers for all 3 seasons. Possibility for various pairings, haven't firmly decided yet. Make a recommendation in a review :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.

Chapter 1 – The Recruits

Georgetown, Washington D.C.

Pentagon Bunker

Ten men sat around a table all exchanging nervous looks and awkward glances until finally, the man at the head of the table spoke. "Any ideas gentlemen?"

There was a long silence until the youngest and most inexperienced man at the table cleared his throat. "Uhhh sir," he began self-consciously, "I was thinking that we could assemble a special task force." He looked up from the files that he held in his hand and noticed looks of approval from his colleagues. "Umm like an explosives expert, linguistics expert, computer and communications."

His superior nodded. "So you're thinking basically the most brilliant minds in the country?"

"Umm yeah, basically sir," the young man responded.

"Okay Lincoln that's your job."

The young man excitedly jumped up out of his chair. "Yes sir, I'm on it!"

"The rest of you," the man at the head of the table spoke sternly. "I want to see some reasons why you should keep your jobs. I want a safe house ready. I want the blueprints of every building in Georgetown. I want detailed maps of the whole D.C. metropolis. I want communication with the CIA and a watch list." He got up out of his chair and made his way towards the door. "And remember gentlemen," he turned around and addressed his team, "this is strictly classified and do not raise the terror alert. The last thing that we want is mass hysteria."

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Two days later…

Joseph Lincoln scurried into his small office and sat down at his desk. He had been researching night and day, having slept only two hours and he finally narrowed it down to a list of nine names. He picked up his phone and pressed number two on his speed dial which was his link to FBI Headquarters. "Hello, this is Joseph Lincoln at the Pentagon, I need the following names in D.C. by nightfall, can you do that for me?" He heard the female voice on the other end say yes so he proceeded. "Retired Agent David Rossi, Agents Jason Gideon, Aaron Hotchner, Dr. Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, and Elle Greenaway. I also need civilians, Jennifer Jareau and Penelope Garcia. Thank you," he added politely before he hung up the phone.

He took a deep breath as he closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. A lot of responsibility was placed on him for he was the one who had handpicked the nine people who the fate of the country depended on.

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Lincoln stood on the opposite side of the two-way mirror and peered into the conference room where his nine recruits were sat around a long rectangular table. None of them had exchanged words or greetings for they had been brought here without any explanations.

He looked around at the nine faces and saw various expressions. Rossi looked agitated, Gideon calm and Hotchner inquisitive. The less experienced agents were more curious. Morgan drummed his fingers on the table anxiously; Prentiss was sitting up straight, prepared to work, and Greenaway portrayed impatience. The other three were tense. Dr. Reid was nervously sweating, Penelope Garcia looked frightened, and Jennifer Jareau seemed confused.

He almost jumped out of his skin when his boss, Colonel Byron Frost, barged into the room, slamming the door behind him. "Lincoln! This is who you brought me to save the country?" He asked angrily.

"Uhh what do you mean sir?" He asked stuttering.

Frost flipped through the files in his hands. "A retired FBI agent, a washed up profiler and his 21-year-old assistant, a family man, three inexperienced agents in their twenties, and two civilians, one of which is on the FBI's computer hackers alert list!"

Lincoln quickly recovered from being yelled at and began to defend his choices. "Agent Rossi started the BAU, the man is extraordinary. Agent Gideon is not washed up, he still is the BAU's best profiler, and his 21-year-old assistant, as you so disrespectfully put it, is Dr. Spencer Reid. He has an IQ of 187 and possesses three PhDs; he is probably the smartest man in the country. Aaron Hotchner may have a wife but he was a valued SWAT member, we're going to need him. And two of the three so called "inexperienced" agents are your explosives expert and your linguistics expert. Agent Greenaway has only been in the FBI one year, yes, but she has solved 46 of the 48 cases handed to her. 46 of 48! That's unbelievable! Jennifer Jareau is known as the best public relations person in New York City and yes, Penelope Garcia is a hacker but what would you rather have, her hacking their system or her hacking our system?" He took a deep breath and composed himself. "Sir," he began quietly, "you asked for the most brilliant minds in the country and here they are, on the other side of that glass."

Meanwhile……

The occupants of the conference room were growing intolerant. They were all anxious to know why they were here, and all for different reasons.

A cell phone call had interrupted David Rossi's fishing trip. He politely obliged to make the trip to D.C. if they provided him with a renewed FBI badge and a firearm. They gave their word so here he was in a pair of blue jeans, a light blue dress shirt, and a brown, suede jacket. He had been in early retirement for almost three years now, writing best selling novels and speaking on the lecture circuit. He had made millions of dollars but he was excited to get back to work. But now he was growing impatient since him and these other eight people, two of which were his ex-colleagues, Jason Gideon and Aaron Hotchner, had been in this room for almost twenty minutes.

Aaron Hotchner turned his phone in his pocket repetitively. He wanted to know the reason why he was here so he could inform his wife, Haley, how long he would be gone. He had simply received a message from his superior, Jason Gideon, saying that they were wanted in D.C. He assumed that it was important business so he dressed in his usual suit and tie. He had acknowledged Rossi with a nod upon entering the room but all of the women and the African-American male were new to him.

Elle Greenaway sighed heavily and crossed her legs in her chair. She was annoyed that she had been pulled off a serial rapist case in Seattle because her supervisor was informed that her presence was requested in D.C. She was very confident in her abilities but she had absolutely no idea why anyone outside of her field office would want her for an assignment; she was still a rookie, a highly successful and respected rookie but a rookie all the same. She discreetly overlapped the collar of her red blouse. She had left the top button undone but she was now self-conscious about this fact seeing that the cute guy with the glasses was staring at her. She glanced towards him and shot him a small smirk; he immediately blushed and turned away. She looked down at her hands and smirked to herself, he was really cute.

Dr. Spencer Reid fidgeted nervously in his chair. He shifted back and forth in an effort to get comfortable and he clung to the strap of his messenger bag. He recognized three other people sitting at this table, everyone else were strangers. He was sat in between his mentor, Jason Gideon, and his co-worker, Aaron Hotchner, and he recognized BAU legend, David Rossi sitting across from him. He had to use all of his restraints to keep his mouth shut so that he didn't start asking Rossi questions about his books. The overwhelming female presence also made him uncomfortable. Here he was a 21-year-old virgin sitting at a table with four attractive women. He thought about girls enough all ready and this didn't help. He particularly noticed the woman sitting at the head of the table, close to Hotch. She had long, dark brown hair and matching brown eyes. She looked irritated but she was still strikingly beautiful. She wore a pair of fitting, black dress pants, and a red blouse, on which she had left the top button open. He knew that if he occupied Hotch's position he would have a hard time tearing his eyes away from the spot where her skin just below her collarbone was exposed. He blushed profusely and turned his head in the opposite direction when she glanced his way and caught him staring at her. When he looked back at her, out of the corner of his eye, she had a small, self-satisfied smirk on her face.

Emily Prentiss remained poised in her seat, taking the time every now and then to make sure that her slimming, black business suit and navy blue blouse were wrinkle free. As an ambassador's daughter, she had picked up a few useful things from her mother. Such as, whenever Washington called it meant that they had a task for you but it was never good. But if they did have a job for her then she was excited to get to it because it would mean that she would get to work with David Rossi and Jason Gideon, who were also sitting at this table. She hung her head, looked down at the table, and awkwardly tucked a piece of her shoulder length, black hair behind her ear. She had unintentionally caught the eye of the handsome, African-American male sitting across from her. She quickly diverted her attention towards the engagement ring on her left hand, smiling to herself as she thought of her fiancé.

Derek Morgan turned his gaze towards the ceiling. He wished he had something to occupy himself. He was in a room with eight, silent strangers with nothing to do but ask himself questions regarding why he was here in the first place. He had come here straight from the Chicago field office and therefore remained in his work clothes, a black suit and a white, pinstriped dress shirt. He looked at his watch and saw that it was 10:36 P.M. He felt like he was being interrogated, he had been told to sit in this room and now they were seeing hold long he could wait. He was determined to remain calm and composed, he didn't want anyone to think that they had an edge over him.

Penelope Garcia's eyes quickly darted from one person to the next. She was nervous, to say the least, to be in a room with several law enforcement officials, judging by the guns on their hips. She wondered why she was here; she definitely did not fit into this group, with her long, blonde hair with blue streaks, tie-dyed shirt, and yellow, summer skirt, not to mention the fact that she was known as the best computer hacker in San Francisco. She suddenly gasped silently to herself, if she was under arrest she was going to absolutely freak out.

Jennifer Jareau felt her phone vibrate against her thigh but she didn't bother to answer it, her boss was already informed of her whereabouts. She was, however, very puzzled about why she was here. She wondered what the American government wanted with a 24-year-old, small town girl who worked in public relations in New York City. Especially since, as far as she could tell, everyone else in this room, except for the blonde woman to her right, seemed very official, they looked like they were the government. As far back as she could remember she had never done anything illegal, she wasn't on any watch lists, and she paid her taxes. She didn't know anyone who worked for the government either. She had a lot of questions and she wanted some answers.

Jason Gideon leaned back in his chair making himself comfortable. There were only a couple of reasons that he could think of for why someone from the Pentagon would call him and ask for his and two of his best agents. And all of them he was dreading. From just visual profiling, no one at this table looked like they were prepared for it except for himself, Dave, Hotch, and Reid. There was a muscular, African-American man, three women who looked to be in their early twenties, two of them Caucasian with long, blonde hair, and the other Hispanic. The other woman, he suspected was in her late twenties and if he wasn't mistaken, he recognized her as Ambassador Prentiss' daughter. But people had proven him wrong before and he wasn't fond of judging a group of people before he got a chance to have an actual conversation with them. His only hope was that someone would come and talk to them soon to give the others time to digest the seriousness of the type of task that he anticipated.

With that thought, a young, gangly male dressed in a crumpled dress shirt and pants and carrying a handful of files entered the room. "Good evening."