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I denied it and denied it until I met up with Ethan in New Orleans. I always wanted to know what was up with him. Everyone know that he was just as intelligent as me if not more. If he wasn't actually a nice guy, I might hate him. Right now, I feel like he is the only one that might understand what's going through my mind. Moreover, I needed to know if I was missing out on something. That's why I accepted his offer to get a drink.

As soon as we arrived at the jazz club he performed at, my phone was ringing constantly. It was Emily. I fumbled with the ringer to turn it off.

"So... Are you gonna ask the question?" Ethan asked as he munched on something and leaned against the bar beside me.

I folded my arms across my chest. "What question?" I did have a question, but I hadn't alluded to it thus far so how he had clocked.

"Come on, man. It's me here. We haven't talked to each other in years. I know it's why you called me. Ask the question."

Alright he got me. "Why did you quit after only one day of FBI training?"

"Well..." He picked up his drink. "I'm sure you've considered the evidence. Analysed the signs. What's your theory?"

"You were battling your own demons. You didn't have time to analyse someone else's." It wasn't a speculation. I knew the feeling. Only my demons may be worse.

"Not bad. Not bad," Ethan complimented me. "Those days, I did prefer Jack Daniel's to Jeff Dahmer." He leaned close to me like it was a secret. "They both weigh on your soul eventually."

Ugh. My phone interrupted again. "Sorry." I exhaled deeply seeing that Prentiss was calling me again. I was missing the flight. On purpose. Consider it an experiment. I just need to know if it made a difference to me.

"The bat phone." Ethan teased, when I flicked it closed and pocket it.

"Let me ask you this, Ethan. Do you ever regret it?" It was scary vocalising my concerns. With just a few words I could uproot my entire life's work. My purpose thus far.

"You know, I may not be changing the world, but... My music makes me happy." I had noticed. He did seem content. "It doesn't take a profiler to see that you're not." He jibbed and roamed towards a seat.

I slapped cash for my drink onto the bar and followed him. "It's not easy. And it's not... I... don't think you'd believe some of the things that I've seen." I cupped the beverage in my hand as I sat opposite Ethan.

"John Coltrane." Ethan announced. I knew who he was. But why was Ethan bringing him up. "He was a genius, too. Died of cancer. But most people think it was the booze and heroin that did him in."

"What are you trying say?" Had Ethan caught on too. Boy I must be bad at hiding it. What that girl from the library had said to me at the hospital was very much still in the forefront of my mind.

Ethan was unknowingly only supporting her claims. "You look like hell."

I scoffed and pursed my lips. "I'm fine." I sat back in my seat trying to seem nonchalant but the awkward position I had placed my hands was unnatural.

"Come on, man. I'm a jazz musician in New Orleans. I know what it looks like when someone's not well." Did I look that bad? Yeah, I had lost weight and I wasn't sleeping well. But that could be attributed to a number of reasons. "This may be the one time I can tell you something That you don't already know." He pointed at the drink in my hand. "That might help you forget, But it won't make it go away. And if I can tell..." He leaned forward once more. "You're surrounded by some of the best minds in the world, And if you think they don't notice..." He held is hand and shook it. "Well... For a genius, That's just dumb."

He was right. I knew that they know. I was trying too hard to remain blissfully ignorant to that fact.

But I knew that the team would only ignore it for so long.

It also seemed like it was time for the next person to step up. Emily had already tried now Derek was up.

"Hey, you guys back from Galveston?" I was supposed to be on that flight. I was hoping bringing it up wouldn't bring too much heat on me. I couldn't pretend it didn't happen.

"First light this morning. Where were you?" Derek appeared annoyed.

"Er, I was out with a friend I already told you." I flipped through my notes making it look like I was busy and that it waws no big deal.

"I called you four times," Emily offered up.

"I didn't have any cell phone reception. So, I didn't get your message until late." A pulled a straight face.

"Right." It was obvious she didn't believe me.

I was expecting Derek to say more than. He didn't. But his suspicious stare unnerved me. And rightly so. Later that evening, when we were scouting a club for the unsub, Derek cornered me.

"You gonna tell me why you missed that flight to Galveston?"

"I already told you. It was no cell reception." I recycled the same excuse.

"Right." Derek had the same untrusting tone as Emily.

"What?"

"I mean, anytime you want to come up with a better answer, I'm standing right here." Great. Now I had to deal with this too. I was starting to think it might be easier just to quit then I wouldn't have anything to hide.

After the case had finished, I went back to see Ethan play. Watching him, I could see how he had turned his life around. I wanted that.

I was in deep contemplation when Gideon came and sat down in the chair beside me.

"How did you find me?" Although should I be surprised.

"You're not all that hard to profile." Gideon theorised. We sat quietly, listening to Ethan's music. "Your friend is good."

All of a sudden, I had the urge to tell him. He was like a father to me. "I missed that plane on purpose."

"I know." At least he didn't sound disappointed. But I was.

"...I'm struggling." I looked down at the ground. I was ashamed. I never thought I would fall into this trap.

Gideon tried to comfort me in his own way. "Well... anybody who's been through what you've been through recently... Would."

"This is all I was groomed for. I never even... I never even considered another option."

"Now you're questioning whether or not you're strong enough to be here?"

"Yeah."

Gideon had got it in one.

"I have been playing at this job in one way or another for almost 30 years. I've felt lost. I've felt great. I have felt scared, sick, and insane. I don't know. I guess the day this job stops gnawing at your soul and... Hands... your hands stop feeling cold... Maybe that's the time to leave."

"I guess I just needed to try to figure out If I could step away from this job."

"And?"

"I'll never miss another plane again." In that moment I had made my decision. I need to find my way out of this. 

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