Chapter 2: Quantico

"You go by Ink, then?"

I smiled thinly at the man in front of me, looking over my papers. He was young, 33 or 34, but seemed old beyond that. Cliché, yes, but surprisingly fitting.

"Yes sir. Ashton Linkin. Ink for short."

Aaron Hotchner nodded, preoccupied with my resume. I knew I'd get in though; Urael never failed.  He probably went and downloaded old FBI profiles and changed just a few things around. I don't know how the moron did that. I couldn't even do it and I'd been living inside a computer for four years before anyone got me out. The man in front of me cleared his throat and I jumped.

"You went to M.I.T.?"
"Yes sir. Graduated top of my class."
"In the same year as—"
"Spencer Reid, yes. Would you believe I've been in the same school as him since high school?" I chuckled quietly. Hotchner eyed me suspiciously. He glanced back down at my resume. With a sigh, he got up and motioned for me to follow. I trailed him to the main room of the headquarters where people were rushing everywhere, spilling coffee and taking hasty notes.

We moved to the upper floor, stopping at the door to the meeting room. That's what the sign said anyway. Hotch turned to me, voice low and tone serious.

"I'm going to introduce you to my team. Don't try anything funny. I still don't know if I should trust you, but I'm going to. I've got Garcia looking through your school records, certificates, everything. If either her or Reid find anything suspicious, you will be taken care of accordingly." I must have looked surprised because he gave me a small smile. "This is the FBI sweetheart. Can't have you blabbing our secrets." And with a wink he opened the door and ushered me inside.