Stellar {s.r.}

Chapter One: Trouble

"I'm done saying things nice

Now you better back up off of me

Because you're on super thin ice

And when it breaks I'm going to get ugly"

~

From her view outside the jet window, Y/N could barely just make out the landing strip before she shut her eyes tight. She always did this ever since she was a little girl and first felt the sensation of flying. The way her stomach flipped upside down when the seat below her began to shake, and the downward tilt of the nose, made her remember why she hated planes so much in the first place. It wasn't the actual journey that made her toes curl and her temples hurt--it was more the awful way most planes took off and landed. She hated the feeling of being out of control, and hurling 500 miles per hour down through the skies was exactly that. Squeezing her eyes shut until she began to see flashes of color, she flinched when the wheels finally touched the ground. After a moment, her shoulders lowered and her brows unfurrowed. The worst was over.

It wasn't like she was afraid of everything, in fact, she prided herself on her lack of fear in day-to-day life. It was one of the things that made her incredible at her job, which gave her a needed adrenaline rush every time she had to be brave. No, her one fear was flying, and that was it. Unfortunately, a private jet was often utilized as a part of her job as well, considering FBI agents are needed all over the country. Not only was she an agent, but she was a part of an elite term of behavioral analysts who made up the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They were a small and motley crew, and every FBI recruit wanted to end up sitting at their coveted round table. However, few made it. Y/N did not consider herself lucky, since she worked her ass off to get a spot at the young age of 25. She was the youngest agent to join in the better part of a decade--a feat she took great pride in. So, she reminded herself, there is no rational reason to be afraid of flying.

"Y/L/N, you good?" asked a familiar voice.

She opened her eyes slowly, as to not subject her pupils to too much light all at once, and made contact with the man in the seat across from her.

Special Agent Derek Morgan was staring at her with great concern written across his charming face. His dark eyes were zeroed in on her, just like when he was checking if an unsub's victim was alright after a gnarly attack. A year ago, when she first joined the team, she recalled thinking of him as "tall, dark, and handsome" incarnate. Now she was thinking of him as the person who was pissing her off.

"I'm fine," Y/N shot back, slightly jilted from her anxiety being called out into the open like that. "Just tired is all."

Derek looked unconvinced, but he knew better than to press further, and hence returned to looking at his phone while the jet rolled to a stop.

Surrounding Y/N in the cabin were her fellow members of the BAU. Next to Derek sat the leader of the unit, Aaron Hotchner, sorting paperwork about the case they just wrapped up. Her best friend, Emily Prentiss, sat adjacent to Y/N's left in the aisle seat. Emily squeezed her hand, which was still dug into the armrest, and stood to disembark.

Across the aisle on the jet's couch were agents Jennifer Jareau and David Rossi. JJ was quietly waking up from a long nap, while Rossi was already picking up his go-bag to head to the exit door.

That only left two more agents in the unit, one of which was Penelope Garcia, who most always stayed behind in Quantico to help further the casework through technology. So that only left the one more--the bane of Y/N's existence.