A/N: Hi! This is my first CM fic, but I've been around FF for quite awhile now. It's important to note that I'm planning for this story to go on for a long time, like 40+ chapters, with at least 2 major cases. You're in for a long ride, my friends. Also, *this is not a love-at-first-sight fic*! Honestly, I don't think it's possible. Infatuation, maybe, but not love.

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds. Believe me, I've tried, but the CEO of CBS, Leslie Mooves, got a restraining order against me. But I have my ways….

Bene Gesserit: "I must not fear. / Fear is the mind-killer. / Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. / I will face my fear. / I will permit it to pass over me and through me. / And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. / Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. / Only I will remain." – Litany Against Fear, Dune

...

If Adriana Messers didn't know better, she would say that the walls were glaring at her. Or at least staring judgmentally.

Agent Hotchner's walls were painted an inoffensive beige, but were crowded with framed diplomas, accolades, and articles. A large bookshelf crowded one corner of the room, lined neatly with volumes and journals on psychology and law and topics that made Adriana's head hurt. The wide desk seemed to distance her seat as far from her interviewer as possible, and the interviewer himself was wearing a severe expression.

All of it converged on her, sending a creeping sense of claustrophobia into her head. She tried to dispel her anxiety by subtly jiggling her legs, bouncing her knees, and balling her fists, but for the moment nothing could calm her.

Luckily, as soon as Agent Hotchner sat down behind his desk, his office phone rang. He answered it, and looked up at Adriana sitting nervously in front of him.

"Sorry, I have to take this in another office," he said, gesturing to the phone. "I'll be right back."

Adriana nodded mutely, hoping her supreme relief didn't show too obviously.

When Agent Hotchner left the room, Adriana let herself breathe deeply before her repressed thoughts exploded.

I can't do this! I'm going to fail! He hates me! Why can't I do anything right? Why can't I stop wiggling?

She looked in horror at her foot as it continued to shake in small spasms. Without thinking, she got up and shook herself out. Her limbs flailed wildly for a second, and Adriana prayed no one saw that. The room had blinds, but they were drawn up.

She had to stop being afraid. This was her only chance. This opportunity at the BAU was too good to pass up. It meant a chance in the one area she wanted to be in- finding people.

Still, the room was as small and impersonal as it was before. Her wide moss-colored eyes scanned the room feverishly for something to cling onto. Something to remind her that Agent Hotchner, this room, hell, even the FBI, was human.

It was so hard, though, when she remembered how the impassive agent walked in. He took purposeful, but not uncalculated, strides. He was one of those rare people, Adriana figured, who was both a thinker and a doer. Someone who made informed decisions, and acted on them decisively.

God, if that's just how he walks...

Adriana collapsed back onto the chair and was looking for any personal touch to comfort her when she spied a photo in the corner on the desk. It faced away from her, on the right-hand side. Near where someone sitting at the desk would be able to glance up at it every second.

Again without thinking, Adriana snatched the photo off the desk and looked at it eagerly.

It was a picture of Agent Hotchner, not in a pressed suit, but in a relaxed t-shirt, smiling and holding a boy around six years old. The boy was probably his son, but the resemblance wasn't with Agent Hotchner. There's no wife in the picture, Adriana noted. Still, the boy smiled brightly into the camera and held tight onto his dad.

Adriana smiled and replaced the picture in exactly the right place. So he does have emotions, she thought.

Suddenly, footsteps announced Agent Hotchner's return.

"Sorry about that," he said smoothly. He sat back down and looked directly at Adriana, probably profiling her every move.

"No problem, sir," she replied. The anxiety was worn away a little, but it returned when Agent Hotchner met her eyes directly.

Hotch took a moment to observe the young applicant. Physically, she seemed average. Average height, average brown hair, possibly below average weight (Hotch tread carefully around that area), small straight nose, and green eyes. But like every profiler, he took a closer look.

Her hair was pinned up carefully, meticulously even. Her heart-shaped face was flush with nervousness or excitement. Her eyes seemed to move rapidly, absorbing details in seconds. He saw a ring on her right index finger that clashed with everything she wore. And finally, he saw that her fidgeting made her almost lift out of the seat.

Mentally, she was far above average. Picking up her file, Hotch scanned her academic records. Born and raised in Virginia, honors-level classes before high school, full academic scholarship to Georgetown where she studied criminal law, psychology, and oddly enough, art history. Received majors in all three, and now working towards her doctorate in anthropology. At twenty-six. Her FBI entrance exams and profiling exams were almost as good as Reid's, but her marksmanship was definitely better than his. Although that's not saying much, Hotch chuckled inwardly.

Finally, he looked back up at Adriana where she was waiting for his analysis.

"You're coming from Missing Persons, correct?" Hotch started.

"Yes," she said.

"And why did you leave after less than a year there? I've heard you did fine work there," he added.

Adriana faltered for a moment, but quickly replied, "I feel that I can make a significant contribution to your team."

Hotch almost smirked at the age-old response. "Such as?" he asked further.

Adriana honestly didn't know what to say, and whenever that happened, she tended to ramble. "Well, my academic record speaks for itself. Also, I can speak several languages fluently, and my past experiences in Missing Persons has allowed me… acquaintance with behavioral patterns, where I had to employ profiling-techniques, and I've had experience with the press, and-"

"Agent Messers, stop," Hotch commanded. Adriana sank back in the chair. Her hopes were sinking quickly.

Hotch continued. "My team is already full of extremely competent profilers, one is a certified genius, and another can speak six languages. Your skills, as impressive as they are, aren't exactly selling points to me. What can you bring to our team?"

Adriana stopped there. What did she have left? She was very smart, spoke five languages, and could shoot well. But what else was there? There was only one thing she had left.

"My devotion," she blurted out.

"Excuse me?" Hotch asked, confused.

For the first time, Adriana looked him square in the face. "You will have my life. I don't know how to explain it, but I need to have this job. If I can't, I won't have anything left to work for, to achieve. If I get this job, you'll have everything I can give and more." Her words started strong, but she spoke quicker and quicker with growing dread.

She tried to keep from sounding desperate and over-dramatic, but that's exactly what she was. Her spirits were basically rock-bottom at this point.

Hotch was bowled over, her desperation not lost on him. He felt like denying her this job would be like sentencing her to death. He wondered if it was some kind of pity-ploy, but a quick scan of her expression revealed that she was deadly serious.

He stood up, and Adriana did the same.

Then Hotch simply said, "We'll be in touch."

Adriana nodded and nervously shook his hand. Her own was clammy and nearly shaking, but Agent Hotchner didn't seem to notice. He gestured towards the door, and Adriana gathered her things and left.

Hotch frowned when she left. She was one of the most qualified agents applying for JJ's spot, and there was no denying her…eagerness, but something about her unsettled him. He thought it was her youth. She was too young to be tying all her life to one thing. He needed to know if she was really ready for this.

He had an idea. Hotch called a familiar number on his cell phone, one that hadn't been used for awhile.

"Hello, JJ? Listen, I need a favor from you."

…..

Adriana barely walked out of the building later that day without collapsing. That interview was scary, but she'd done it, at least. Now all that was left was to wait for the call-

Ring Ring Ring

Seriously? Adriana thought wildly. They rejected me that quickly? Fumbling with her bag, she frantically looked for her phone. She found it, panicked, and held the cell phone without making a move to answer it.

Ring Ring Ring

With extreme trepidation, she flipped open the phone had held it to her ear.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Hello," she heard, "This is Agent Jennifer Jareau."

A/N: If you review, I'll give you a cookie! (and by cookie, I mean thanks)

Huge thanks to Nuwanda31 for reading this over and answering all my annoying questions and being so nice

FYI- My title comes from the Robert Frost poem "A Question"