[4.18]

"you're gonna laugh at this story one day"

On one of his rare days off, Hotch had decided to go to the park with Jack, given that it was his weekend with him. It had been a wonderful day — they had gone out to breakfast at a diner, bought Jack some new books from the bookstore, and now the two Hotchner boys were kicking around a soccer ball. Well, Jack was kicking. Hotch was barely nudging the ball with his toe, knowing that the three-year-old couldn't keep up. Haley thought that Jack was a little young to be learning about sports already, but Hotch made a strong argument about how it would help his motor skills. Besides, all he was doing was playing with a ball.

They had been playing for some time when Hotch noticed someone fly by on a skateboard. Given the lack of a helmet, he was easily able to identify the girl as Florence. He was distracted by his thoughts for a moment, wondering if he should call her over and introduce her to Jack — everyone else on the team had met him. And there was no doubt in his mind that she would get along with a preschooler.

"Daddy, watch out!"

It was embarrassing, really. He had been distracted for just a few seconds. The incoming ball that Jack was warning him about was going no faster than five miles per hour, but that didn't register in Hotch's mind as he kicked it with his full force. He realized his mistake as the soccer ball went soaring through the air. It hit Florence in the face and sent her tumbling from her skateboard.

Hotch did his best to not say "shit" in front of his child as he ran over to Florence, Jack following quickly behind. Florence rolled on her back and slowly sat up while holding her face with both hands, groaning. Her elbows and knees were covered in fresh scrapes. She opened one of her eyes and squinted up at Hotch, surprised to see him hovering over her with a panicked look on his face.

"Daddy, you hit her in the face," Jack stated, putting a hand on his head as if he was in distress. He looked adorable, but Florence was in too much pain to say anything about it. "She's bleeding!"

"Florence, I'm so sorry," Hotch said. He got Florence to move her hands, which revealed her bleeding nose. "Tilt your head back."

Florence did as she was told, while also taking the flannel shirt that was tied around her waist and holding it over her nose to soak up some of the blood. "I know I'm not your favorite, Hopscotch, but there are nicer ways to get your point across."

"It was an accident," he insisted. He clearly felt guilty, and Florence rolled her eyes.

"I know it was an accident," she said, wincing as she dabbed her nose. "You got a very powerful kick, Hotch."

"I'm sorry Daddy broke your face." Florence finally noticed the child that was holding on to Hotch's arm and looking up at her with wide apologetic eyes.

Florence chuckled but stopped because it hurt her face. "You must be Jack."

"Jack, this is Florence. She works with me on my cases," Hotch explained. Florence nodded her head in greeting, but Hotch immediately made her go back to tilting it back. "I need to get you to a doctor."

"Hotch," Florence said, sighing. "I can go to the doctor on my own. Besides, you don't get a lot of days with Jack. You don't gotta waste it taking me to a doctor."

"Florence," he said firmly. "Your nose is likely broken. I'm not making you take yourself to the doctor on your own. You don't even have a car."

Florence grumbled a little bit but did agree to let him take her to the closest urgent care. Once he helped her up, Hotch grabbed her skateboard while Jack sweetly offered to carry her backpack. Hotch led her back to the parking lot, steering her by her shoulder since she couldn't look where she was going.

"I can't wait to tell Derek about this," she joked. Once she was settled in the back seat, Hotch ran around to get Jack buckled in his car seat. "They're gonna be so mean to you."

"I'll deserve it," Hotch muttered.

"Daddy, she likes Spider-Man!" Jack exclaimed. Hotch looked in the rearview mirror and saw that he was looking at all the pins covering Florence's pink backpack.

"Yeah, bud, I love Spider-Man. He's one of my favorites," Florence said, grinning. "Your dad says you love superheroes. Who's your favorite?"

"Captain America," he proclaimed, grinning. Florence noted that he had a mouth full of teeth, which was interesting. She didn't think kids had teeth until they were like five. "He's the best."

Florence had to bite her tongue at his comment. She told herself that she was not going to start an argument about how Iron Man was so much better than Captain America while she had a broken nose. In his defense, he probably didn't read the comic books and watch the movies — his knowledge only came from watching the cartoon version of The Avengers on Cartoon Network. Hotch would never let her see his child again if she got a screaming match with him in the backseat.

"Y - yeah," she muttered unenthusiastically. "I sure do love Captain America."

"I wish I had a Spider-Man on my backpack," Jack said, pouting.

Florence dapped her nose again and noticed that the bleeding was slowing down. "How about I give you that one?" Before Hotch could protest, she waved him off. "I collect them, so I've got twenty others at home waiting to replace him. Maybe I'll put an Iron Man in his place."

"I don't like Iron Man," Jack whispered. Florence held in a gasp. "Thank you so much, Florence. You're my favorite of Daddy's work friends!"

"Hear that, Hopscotch? I'm his favorite," she said, grinning. "Jack, I'll give Spider-Man to your dad since the back of it is sharp. When you get home, he can put it on your backpack."

Jack cheered and then started talking about the other superheroes he liked. Florence patiently listened while occasionally scrubbing under her nose. Hotch watched them in the rearview mirror. He couldn't believe his day. He had broken her nose and Florence shrugged it off like it was nothing, while also giving his son a gift. Of course, that made him feel even guiltier.

When they arrived at the urgent care center, Florence let Hotch sign her in before insisting he go. That didn't work at all though. Jack sat in between them with a Where's Waldo book, while Hotch helped Florence fill out her paperwork.

"What do you mean you don't have insurance?" Hotch whispered, looking at her with wide eyes. "It's offered in the benefits package you received from being hired. All you had to do was markdown that you wanted it on your starting paperwork."

Florence shrugged. "Hotch, you know me well enough to know that I didn't really understand all that paperwork Strauss made me do when I took this job."

Hotch leaned back in his seat. "The minute that you get back to the office, you are filling out the form to receive the health insurance plan offered by the Bureau. I'll pay for the x-rays."

"No way," Florence said, crossing her arms. "I can cover it."

"Do you know how much doctor's visits and x-rays and medicine actually cost without insurance?" Hotch asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," she replied, "but you should remember that I don't have things like car payments and student loans and a child. I'll just pull it out of my savings account."

Hotch sighed and admitted internally that she had a point. Riding a skateboard to work likely saved a lot of money. "But I'm the one who—"

"Hit me in the face with a soccer ball," Florence finished for him, chuckling. "You know, you go on about how I need to learn how to be an adult all the time. By letting me pay for this, it teaches me that I need to have insurance so it doesn't cost as much. Now I'll learn the importance of health insurance. And you'll still pay because I'll never let you live this down."

Hotch rolled his eyes, but before he could argue further, Jack tugged on Florence's sleeve.

"I can't find Waldo," he told her.

Florence did her best to look down at the book without moving her head much. Yes, her nose was killing her, but she still had to make a good first impression with Hotch's baby — well, he wasn't a baby but still. She narrowed her eyes and studied the image for a minute before sighing.

She reached over and tugged on Hotch's sleeve like Jack had done with her. "Hotch, I can't find Waldo."

"He's right there."

"Jack, I found Waldo."

"Thanks, Florence!"

Hotch looked between the two with an open mouth. "But I'm the one that found—"

"We're already on the next page, Hopscotch. Get over it."

|||

"Oh, Sunshine, what the hell happened to your face?"

Everyone at their desks looked up as Florence walked into the bullpen with her head held high and her face on full display. Derek was the first to notice, and everyone else looked at her with sympathy — except for Hotch, who was standing by Prentiss' desk and rubbed his face tiredly.

"You don't like my new look?" Florence asked, chuckling. Her voice sounded off and nasally.

Florence's nose had a large splint on it, with white pads covering up most of the injury. It was swollen and some gauze was stuffed up her nostrils. There were dark, purple bruises covering her nose and under her eyes that made her look miserable despite the goofy smile on her face. She really did look horrible.

"Baby, what happened?" Garcia asked, leaving her spot at Morgan's desk and going to Florence's side to look closer.

"Oh, Hopscotch punched me in the face," she lied, grinning.

While internally, they knew she must have been lying, they all still looked at Hotch accusingly. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "I did not punch you in the face."

"Okay," Florence said, laughing. "He didn't punch me in the face. He kicked a soccer ball in my face and broke my nose."

The team looked back at him, waiting for his response. Hotch sighed and grimaced. "I... did do that. There was an accident at the park."

"My word, Aaron," Rossi said, covering his mouth. "Look what you did. She looks horrible."

"It's a good thing I don't have self-image issues," Florence muttered as everyone agreed with Rossi.

"What did the doctor say about it?" Prentiss asked while looking over the bandages.

"They're hoping that the splint helps reshape it so they don't have to do surgery. I have to wear it for like two weeks," she explained, shrugging. "The swelling will go down in a few days and they gave me a prescription to help the pain."

"How bad does it hurt?" JJ asked, frowning.

"It feels like I have a migraine but on my nose and I can feel my heartbeat in it."

As Florence went over her symptoms, Hotch began to feel even worse. Yes, she had made it clear that she didn't blame him, but he couldn't help it. He didn't ever want to touch a soccer ball ever again. He also found it hard to look at Florence's face without cringing from the memory. Hotch had told Haley about it when he dropped Jack back off, and she tried to convince him that it was okay and that accidents happen. It didn't work.

After the team fussed over Florence for several more minutes — she ate that attention up — they began to get back to work. Instead of following Garcia to their office, Florence went to Hotch's. He gave her a very pathetic and apologetic look when she knocked on his door.

"Florence, again, I am so sorry—"

Hotch cut himself off when Florence grinned and threw something at him. He caught it and studied the bracelet made out of gray thread. Florence smiled sweetly, and combined with the bracelet, Hotch's guilt was now consuming him.

"I broke your nose, and you made me a friendship bracelet?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You earned it. Now everyone has theirs."

"You were not obligated to make me one just because you made one for the rest of the team and Anderson," Hotch said.

Florence sighed. "Hopscotch, I've had these made since my first week here. I know you aren't going to wear it though."

"So, you wait until I break your nose with a soccer ball to give me mine?" he asked, confused.

"I just want you to know that I really am not mad at you," she said. "You're gonna laugh at this story one day. Plus, I finally got to meet Jack. He's a great kid. Bad taste in superheroes, but still a good kid. Yeah, my nose was bleeding, but I'd been wanting to meet him for a while so there were pros and cons to Saturday."

"I was very surprised at your restraint when he mentioned his distaste for Iron Man," Hotch admitted. He looked down at the bracelet in his hands. "Thank you for forgiving me, Florence."

She waved him off. "Nothing to forgive. I'm gonna get back to work. See ya later, Hopscotch."

As she left, she passed Rossi who was coming into Hotch's office.

"Did she yell at you for her nose?" Rossi asked, grinning.

Hotch rolled his eyes and looked at some of his paperwork. "No. She let me know that there were no hard feelings and I got my bracelet."

"Ooh, what colors?"

"Just gray," Hotch said, showing it to him.

"Lucky," he muttered.

Hotch gave him an odd look. "How am I lucky for getting a gray bracelet. It's not even my favorite color."

"Well, you've never told her your favorite color. Besides, it matches all your outfits. I can't wear mine," Rossi said while pulling his own bracelet out of his wallet. "I love the colors of the Italian flag, but it clashes with my suits. Yours is stylish."

"I'm not trading bracelets with you, Dave," Hotch said, showing a hint of a smile. He tucked his bracelet in his wallet behind his badge so that he'd always have it. "Did you finish that report you were talking about?"

"You're no fun."

|||

Seemingly out of nowhere, Hotch pulled the team to Boston before they were even requested by the local authorities. The Boston Reaper, who hadn't killed in years, suddenly resurfaced and Hotch wanted everything done to catch him. Garcia had explained to Florence that it was his first case as a lead profiler, and it had always bothered Hotch that he was never caught. Apparently, the original lead detective made a deal with the Reaper for him to stop killing so long as they stopped searching for him. And now that detective had died and the Reaper was right back at it.

Hotch had tasked Florence and Garcia with tracking down the only victim left alive, George Foyet. There was just one problem as they soon found out — he basically didn't exist. It frustrated Florence to no end that there was nothing to find on him. Her world revolved around the internet, and the fact that he didn't caused a huge problem.

They called Morgan to give the bad news, and he quickly sent Prentiss to go get Hotch.

"Garcia and Florence can't find George Foyet," Morgan told them.

"I've got nothing, Sir," Garcia said.

"What do you mean?" Hotch asked, confused.

"He's gone," Garcia said. "I mean, he's completely off the grid, and he's gone."

"How is that possible?"

"Nine months after he was released from the hospital, he, uh, quit his job, sold his car, closed his bank accounts, canceled his credit cards, cell phone, apartment, everything. He has no paper, thus he has no trail. And I can't find him cause he's gone."

"You think it's intentional?" Hotch asked.

"It's more than intentional," Florence muttered. Those on the call were surprised to hear the annoyance in her tone. "It's almost impossible. Even dead people stay on the grid for decades. He's way committed to this. He had to cut everything and everyone out of his life. It's like he offed himself and wiped his existence off the planet. It's annoyingly impressive."

"Well, after what the guy's been through, can you blame him?" Prentiss asked. "Foyet's the only living person who knows what the Reaper looks like and he's still out there."

"But it doesn't change the fact that we still need to find him," Hotch said. Then he sighed. "Florence, have you tried—"

"Oh, I've used my less than ethical methods," she said, angrily sipping on a Capri Sun.

"We'll keep looking though," Garcia added, trying to not give up hope.

"Garcia, we don't have much time," Hotch said.

"I know, Sir."

Hotch did manage to track down Foyet eventually. He ended up contacting the author who wrote a book on the Reaper. He had interviewed Foyet and kept in contact with him, so Rossi and Hotch went to his address.

Once they got addresses and aliases from him, Florence could start her real digging. She could also look more into his relationship with Amanda Bertrand, who had been killed the night he almost died. While she found all she could, the team certainly wasn't having a fun time.

The Reaper had killed several people on a public bus while leaving a weird and cryptic message. Eventually, they figured out that the Reaper knew all of Foyet's aliases and addresses, so the team split up to go and find him. The Reaper ended up being at the address Morgan checked. They were all surprised and thrown for a loop when he didn't kill Morgan after knocking him out and taking his FBI credentials.

Once he was patched up, the team went back to the precinct to rethink the whole case. Given the amount of Foyet's blood at the scene, they could only assume he was dead or near it. While they did that, Florence looked back over Foyet's story.

"Garcia, call the team," she mumbled, shuffling through the papers.

"You got something?" she asked while dialing them.

"I think."

"Garcia?" Hotch answered. "What do you have?"

"Uh, Florence."

"Okay," she said, rolling over to the phone with the files in hand. "Amanda Bertrand was my age when Foyet proposed, except he's almost ten years older than her. That was the first alarm. Next, he was a teacher's assistant in one of her Freshman classes. Now, she's originally from Michigan, so he didn't meet her until classes started."

"Well, how long had she been in the class?" Hotch asked.

"Four weeks," Florence answered. She handed the files over to Garcia so she could see what she found. "Now, he's not a Marine, and love, at first sight, is a pathetic excuse to propose to a nineteen-year-old girl."

"You think Foyet was lying?" Morgan asked.

"Well, I'm no profiler, but I know a creepy old man when I see one. And that's not all I found," she said. "I looked into all his aliases. Kevin Baskin, Miles Holden, and William Parker all work for the Department of Education as substitute teachers for Computer Science in, you guessed it, a creepy old man's playground — high schools."

"No, not all of them work for the Department of Education," Garcia said, scanning the file.

"They're not?" Hotch asked.

"No. William Parker was fired for alleged inappropriate behavior with his female students," Garcia revealed. The line was silent for a moment as they thought over the new information. "Hotch?"

"Colson went to see Foyet. Garcia, I need you to locate Roy Colson's cell phone. George Foyet is the Reaper," he ordered.

"Oh, god. Uh, ok, triangulating now. I got it. 2633 South Budlong," Garcia quickly replied.

"That must be an address that Foyet didn't give us," Morgan said.

The team managed to catch Foyet before he killed Colson. No one could find Morgan's badge though. Despite having him in custody, Florence knew that the fact that Foyet got the drop on Morgan would bother him for a while.

|||

"You did really well on this case, Florence," Hotch complimented.

They had all arrived back at the BAU, where Florence and Garcia had greeted them in the lobby.

"Definitely," Prentiss agreed. "Boy, am I glad they sent you here instead of prison."

"Yeah, I don't think I would've done that great in prison," Florence said, leaning on Reid's desk.

"Oh, you don't think the other inmates like friendship bracelets and one direction?" she asked, smirking, while the others snickered.

"It sounds like you're asking to give your friendship bracelet privileges revoked," Florence mumbled.

Prentiss held her left wrist protectively, where she was wearing her bracelet. "Let's not make any rash decisions. Seriously though, you managed to find the holes in Foyet's story before anyone else could."

Florence shrugged the compliment off. "Well, as a nineteen-year-old girl, if a teacher's assistant who was almost ten years older than me and only moderately average looking showed interest in me, I'd find it suspicious. Everything else was just regular snooping."

"You do excel at snooping," JJ told her, smiling.

Everyone soon got to work on filling out their reports and necessary paperwork. Florence still hung around, with nothing better to do. All was going pretty well until JJ rushed through the bullpen towards Hotch's office. As she passed, she instructed them to turn on the news.

What they saw shocked them all. Foyet had escaped from prison and there was now a manhunt going on. Everyone immediately jumped up to get to work and phones started ringing all over the office.

As JJ led Hotch and Rossi into the bullpen, Prentiss ran over with Reid right behind her.

"The Boston field office just identified documents from Foyet's house," she told them.

"They're schematics for the electrical, heating, and water ducts for the East Woburn Correctional Facility," Reid explained.

"He had the schematics?" Hotch asked.

"And not just for Woburn. For every jail, prison, and courthouse in Massachusetts," Reid said.

"And ten years to plan," Rossi added.

"But they'll find him, right?" Florence asked.

Hotch stared up at the TV, where they were reporting the story. "No, they're not."

"He said he'd be more famous than we knew.," Derek stated, frowning. "And he was right."

"Well, shit," Florence mumbled.