Once more to see you

are you there, god? it's me, Lorraine.

Monday, October 12th, 2009.

Here she was again, keeled over the bathroom toilet, what was she thinking? She knew she started work today, she knew it was a bad idea. But yet she still took those pills. Not caring about her mom, or her sister, or her dad, how selfish. She starts work at the behavior analysis unit, joining the FBI? Whose bright idea was that?

She manages to stand up and grabs her toothbrush, flushing the puke down the toilet, she begins brushing her teeth. Her vision is so blurry she can barely see what she's doing. She checks her watch and quickly runs to her bedroom and pulls on a grey skirt that goes down to about mid-calf, and a white button up blouse which she tucks in and puts on her suit jacket and boots, then puts her hair into a claw clip.

She grabs her purse, gun, badge, and cell phone, then quickly rushes out to catch the bus, which thankfully she manages to do.
She arrives at the bureau 8 minutes and 36 seconds before she had to be, she makes a bee-line straight for 'aaron hotchners" office, knocking exactly three times, not one less, not one more.

"Come in." A low voice said from behind the door.

She entered the room, closing the door behind her, she looks up to see a raven haired man with a very serious expression.

"Have a seat, miss Palmer." He instructs.

She sits in the seat across from his desk.

"I'm sure you're aware of your position here but I'd just like to go over a few things." He says.

"Of course. I understand, sir." She says quietly.

After a brief conversation she leaves his office and goes to find her desk, as she exits his office she sees six people staring at her, of course she knows everything about these people already, yet so little at the same time.

Derek Morgan, raised in Chicago, his father was shot, alleged 'ladies man', bottles everything up for the most part.

Jennifer jareau, raised in Pennsylvania, her sister committed suicide, former media liaison turned agent, mother of one, unmarried, very trustworthy and kind.

Spencer Reid, raised in Nevada by a single schizophrenic mother, his father left, He was a child prodigy, attended Caltech and MIT, had a drug problem for a bit after being kidnapped by Tobias hankel.

David Rossi, helped found the bau, three previous wives, written five books about profiling, incredibly wealthy, old.

Penelope Garcia, raised in California, her parents died by a drunk driver when she was 18, technical analyst, bubbly personality, often too sweet to see the things on the cases, very smart.

Emily Prentiss, wasn't raised in one place, she moved around a lot, she got pregnant at 15 but had an abortion, she has trouble putting roots and getting close to people.

She walks over to them. "Hi, I'm Dr. Lorraine Palmer, I've recently joined the bau. it's a pleasure to meet you all." She says and she sticks her hand out to shake each of their hands.

"I'm Emily prentiss." She says as she accepts the handshake.

They all introduce themselves then go back their respective desks, then everyone is called into the conference room and JJ discusses the case.

"Wheels up in 30." Hotch says.

30 minutes later everybody's on the jet, hotch is seated next to Rossi, JJ next to Emily, Derek and Spencer on the couch, and Lorraine, seated across from hotch and Rossi.

"So what did you do before you decided to join the FBI?" Rossi asks.

"I was in the Marines." Lorraine says.

"The Marines? How old were you when you were enrolled?" Rossi questions.

"I was 17, sir. I served until last year when I was offered the opportunity to join the bureau."

Rossi and hotch share a look but say nothing.

The plane lands and they go to the local PD, hotch sends everyone to do different tasks.

"Morgan and JJ interview witnesses, Rossi and I will look at the crime scene, Reid work on the geological profile, Lorraine and Emily talk to the victims families."  Hotch orders.

Everyone goes to their separate cars.

"So how long have you lived in DC?" Emily asks.

"About a year." Lorraine stated.

They continue making quiet small talk but nothing truly worth anything.  They arrive at the victims parents house and go inside. They talk to them, the victims were three young girls, Sarah age 9, Mary age 7, Louise,  age 4. They were kidnapped and murdered brutally, the details could make a seasoned war vet sick to their stomach.

"Excuse me. I need to step out for a moment." Lorraine says quietly.

She goes outside and throws up in a bush, Emily follows behind her.

"Are you alright?" Emily asks softly.

Lorraine nods but she's still puking, Emily holds her long blonde hair out of her face so she doesn't get puke in it.

After she's finished throwing up, they go back inside to finish talking to the victims families.

They go back to the PD and after about 19 hours they catch the unsub. On the flight back everybody is asleep but her, she stares out the window till eventually falling asleep.

They get back to the bau and everyone goes out to eat after the long case, Lorraine is obviously against the idea but is eventually convinced. They have a pleasant meal then everyone goes their separate ways.

Lorraine gets to her apartment, cold, empty, lonely, just a single grey cat. She feels sick to her stomach, she knows she shouldn't have gone out to eat with them, she stumbles to the bathroom, holding her stomach. She grabs a pill bottle from the cabinet  'Acetaminophen' she takes about 20 with a lot of water, about an hour she's bent over the toilet puking again, it's a viscous endless cycle. She finds herself doing something she hasn't done since she was around 12, praying.

As she continues to puke more and more, till it's just foamy stomach acid and blood coming up,  her throat hurting and eyes watering, she gags and gags until she can't take it anymore, she prays, knowing nothing will change after she does, even if there is a "god" why would he help her. So many people have it worse, just because she can't eat one meal without taking pills to make herself throw up, doesn't mean she's worth saving, if anything there's probably an old nun dying who could use "God's" help, not someone who's done the things she has, nobody would save her if they knew how truly awful she was.

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Word count 1132.

There will be more talking in the next chapters, this one was more just like idk observation I guess.