Chapter 6 : The Somniphobic Work-A-Holic |EDITED|

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Garcia's POV

As I was waiting for the last three to enter the room, I began to think. "Hey, do you guys ever wonder about Jerone? Not even just about her coffee incident, but her formalities. She calls Hotch and Rossi by their first names, but she still only refers to us by our last names." I brought it up, whilst finishing setting up the slides.

"Well, I mean yeah, it isn't exactly hard to miss. But it's not exactly out of character for her, so it was expected. By me, at least. Just give her a month or so, and she'll be fine. But we all use her last name as well, except for Hotch and Rossi, so we don't have much room to talk." Reid spoke, never taking his eyes off the book that was currently sitting on the table in front of him.

In the next few minutes, it was silent. I finished setting up, and the last three had yet to show. As I was just about at my wit's end and about to go round 'em up for myself, they sauntered on in. Jerone took her seat in the back, and focused her eyes on her lap, whereas Hotch and Rossi took their seat wherever they could find.

"Alright my little Crime Fighters, today we head up north to Toronto, Canada. Little on the shorter side in terms of flight distance. Anyways, kidnapping, molestation, and murder. Serials. Our unsub is kidnapping little girls between the ages of six to eight. These little girls are taken one at a time, whilst the parents are sleeping. The unsub keeps them for five days, assumingly to spend time with them personally, and molest them. Then, the TPD assumed, based on the ME reports of the past five victims, that they are killed on the sixth day, and cleaned. Bathed, dressed, hair brushed, and kept in well condition as if to preserve the body. Then, the seventh day is when the unsub dumps them, all the dumpsites not like the rest." I finished, leaving images of the girls' bodies up.

Everyone in the room flinched, apart from Jerone. She was just shaking her head lightly, a small, barely noticeable, frown on her face. She put her head in her hands, rubbing her temples, and sighed. She sat up again, reaching for her coffee. She pulled a pill bottle out of her blazer pocket, poured two pills into her hand, and swallowed them.

Nobody other than I noticed, as they were all busy and preoccupied with the profile and all that. But, I also watched as she immediately got right back into work, reading whatever case was on her lap and taking notes on her notepad.

I sighed. I barely know the girl, but she seems like she never sleeps. Migraines are a surefire sign of lack of sleep, as well as an obstruction to the normal routine and dazing off. It isn't a funny thing to get involved in and can actually be very fatal. Studies have shown that someone can very well die from sleep deprivation and she's still so young.

She stood up, walking out of the room and into the bullpen. I decided to try and get to know her more, so she will be more comfortable around me and the others.

"Hey, Nicoletta right? I hear Hotch and Rossi call you, um, Nicki was it?" I spoke, walking up beside her desk. She looked up and smiled at me.

"Yeah, that's me. Both Nicoletta and Nicki are fine, though most people call me Nicki." She responded, laughing slightly.

"Well, you obviously know who I am, but Penelope Garcia's the name, and technical analysis' are my game. It's lovely to finally properly introduce myself to you." She giggled and nodded.

"Indeed it is. You know, you are the first person to approach me single-handedly, other than Reid? It's nice, not being treated differently. I know I've been pretty cold with you all, and I don't mean to be, honest I don't. It's just. I'm just, a guarded person." She sighed, rubbing her temples before giving up, and began digging through her bag.

"I can only imagine how hard it was, going through an incredibly tough time for most teenagers, and you were only a little girl." I said, sitting next to her and laying a hand on her shoulder.

She nodded, pulled her sunglasses out of her bag, then stood up and put them on. "Well, I'm gonna head over to the jet. Let them know if they ask, Penelope?" She asked, grabbing her bag and briefcase, then moving towards the door.

I smiled. "No problem, Nicki. No problem." She returned the friendly gesture, saluted me, then disappeared into the elevator.

Nicki's POV

I quickly boarded the jet and sat in the very back, as I normally do. I pulled my briefcase out, grabbing out my high-tech laptop and the second case file, immediately getting to work with the notes I took earlier.

I was so invested in my background search of the unsub, I didn't even notice all of the other agents enter the jet. My mind is whirring, trying it's hardest to get everything done, for JJ. But this case is different. Simple, even. And there tends to only be one major problem when the case is simple. My mind does not do simple.

My mind is hardwired to deal with the most complex of cases, and this case is not that. It was really beginning to frustrate me, and I was getting beyond annoyed with not only the case but with myself.

Emily's POV

As we entered the jet, the first thing all of us heard was fast typing, alongside quiet mumbling and some classical music Reid instantly recognized.

"Pyotr Ilych Tchaikovsky," Reid whispered, looking utterly confused. "She only ever listens to him when," Rossi cut him off.

"When she's thinking."

"Well, why don't we go see what she's up to." I offered, and we all began inching closer to her. Eventually, Reid was close enough to look over the seat to see what was happening.

As we were moving towards the girl, a throat was cleared.

"If you were really that interested in what I was doing," she paused, rubbing her eyes, "you just simply had to ask. Now I'm not saying I would have told you, but still."

Her voice was broken and tired. "When was the last time you slept?" I asked, stepping forward. She was about to sit back down and ignore my question when I spoke up again. "Nicki, when was the last time you slept?" Me calling her Nicki must have triggered something because she immediately snapped her head up to look at me.

She sighed when she realized she couldn't get out of answering my question and lowered her head, rubbing her temples.

"You all caught me. I'm a Somniphobic Work-A-Holic."

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