[4.2; 4.3]

"well, i am a taurus"

Because of Florence's concussion, staring at a computer screen gave her a huge headache. Because of this, Garcia had her working on paperwork for the majority of her first week back. Once her concussion was all healed, she then had to digitize all the paperwork she had filed away. For once, she didn't complain about her job. Florence would much rather sit at her desk all day then spend another second in the field ever again.

Of course, she still took her frequent breaks to go bother the others. Hotch was at a doctor's appointment, so annoying him wasn't an option — ever since he had admitted to enjoying her presence, Florence had spent much more time with him. Given that he wasn't cleared to go out into the field yet, he couldn't run away.

Florence settled for heading to JJ's office. She knocked on the door and poked her head in, greeting JJ with a smile.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, I'm just looking over cases," she said, nodding to some folders on her desk.

"I won't keep you long," Florence said, taking a seat across from her. "But I have a present for you?"

"Oh yeah?"

Florence nodded and dug in her pocket before pulling out the gift. She held out a blue friendship bracelet like the one she had given to Garcia. "I made it for you. I picked blue for your son. Don't worry though. I'll get him a real gift when he gets here."

JJ grinned and took the bracelet fondly. She was too touched to even bring up the fact that she could still have a girl. "Thank you, Florence." It made her perk up when JJ slipped it around her wrist. "You know, you're actually a huge sweetheart."

"Don't tell anyone though. I have a reputation for being a nuisance to uphold," Florence said, laughing. Then she smiled softly. "You're gonna be a totally bitchin' mom, JJ."

JJ was going to thank her again, but her phone rang. Florence let her answer it and left her office, waving goodbye. Next, she made her way to Reid's desk and perched herself on the corner.

"Teach me something, Boy Genius."

"Did you know that there are far more trees on the planet than there are stars in the galaxy?" he asked.

"No way," she said, narrowing her eyes playfully. Spencer sat forward excitedly.

"Yes, way! There are only around four-hundred billion stars in the Milky Way while there are approximately three thousand and forty-one trillion trees on Earth," he said. "And of those forty-one trillion trees there are over sixty thousand different species of trees."

"I'll keep that in mind next time I climb one," she said. "Thanks, Spence."

"Briefing room as soon as Hotch gets back from the doctor," JJ told them, walking out of her office. "Should be about twenty minutes."

"I'll go let Garcia know," Florence said, hopping off the desk. She waved goodbye before heading off to her office.

|||

"So, what's the tea?"

"For the last time, it's called a briefing," Hotch said, giving a pointed look to Florence.

"Same thing. There's always weird tea with serial killers," she said, shrugging. "JJ, take it away."

JJ nodded to Florence and smiled before putting up an image of a dead girl. "This is Delilah Grennan. She was bludgeoned and raped during the night at her home in Lower Canaan, Ohio."

"Lower where?" Prentiss questioned.

"Small town forty miles outside of Cincinnati," JJ explained.

"Staging the body face-up with the arms across the chest like that," Reid pointed out.

"Ritual," Morgan concluded. Then he ruffled Reid's hair, which he had cut and slicked back. "Nice hair, by the way."

"Thanks," Reid said with a hint of a smile.

"Uh, there's more," JJ said. "Small puncture wounds on her stomach. Note the lack of blood."

"They were inflicted post-mortem," Prentiss noted. "Were there any other victims?"

"Kind of." JJ hesitated before putting up several more pictures of other dead girls. "Victimology and signature match a serial killer from the same town ten years ago. Ten victims spanning over ten months. He called himself—"

"The Angel Maker," Hotch interrupted. "I remember the case."

"They caught that guy," Reid said.

"And executed him," Rossi added.

"That's right. He was put to death by lethal injection a year ago yesterday."

"Yesterday."

"So we're looking for a copycat," Morgan said.

"Honoring the anniversary of his hero's death."

"It says here they found semen at the crime scene," Reid said, looking through the folder. "Perhaps locals will get a DNA match when they run it through vicap?"

"Well, that's where it gets weird. They ran it already and they got a match, too," JJ told them while handing the report to Rossi.

"Well, if they already have a name, why'd they call us?" Prentiss asked.

"They've got to be kidding," Rossi said, staring down at the paper. "The match they got back on the DNA is to a Cortland Bryce Ryan, otherwise known as... The Angel Maker."

Florence clicked her tongue in surprise and crossed her arms. "Ah, and there's the tea."

"Wheels up in thirty," Hotch ordered. Once everyone got up to get ready, Florence quickly followed Hotch to his office. Before he could shut the door in her face, she weaseled her way into the room. He hadn't known she was following him but looked at her expectantly. "Yes?"

She crossed her arms and stared up at him with the best scolding look she could manage. "Considering that I was only cleared for flying a few days ago and I only had a concussion, I'm pretty confident you aren't supposed to get on that plane. Flying messes with the pressure in your ears."

"I am fine," Hotch said, sighing gently.

"Did the doctor tell you today that you can fly?"

Hotch paused for a moment, which already gave Florence her answer. "She signed off on me going back into the field."

"The field isn't the same as flying."

"You're very stubborn," Hotch noted.

"Well, I am a Taurus."

"Florence, I appreciate you worrying about me, but you don't have to. I promise you that I am good to fly."

Florence studied his face for a minute, but she was no profiler and couldn't find any signs of him lying. She sighed and nodded, deciding to let it go.

"Fine. Be safe on the mission and have fun," she said.

"They're not called missions, and we don't typically have fun on them."

|||

The rest of the Angel Maker case had continued to be just as bizarre as the beginning of it. Apparently, locals had a hard time believing that it was a copycat killer and not the original Angel Maker. Florence and the rest of the team thought it was ridiculous considering that he had been executed a year ago. Despite how ridiculous it was, the town Sheriff still insisted on digging up the body.

The dramatic gasp that left Florence's lips when Morgan called to tell her and Garcia that his body was missing was probably a bit too exaggerated, but she couldn't help it. The case was full of twists, and she loved it.

Florence and Garcia had been assigned to dig up what they could about fans of the Angel Maker. The fact that she could buy signed merch of serial killers online baffled Florence, but also, she was tempted to buy one of the origami figures folded into the shape of a dolphin.

"Did you know that John Wayne Gacy painted clowns?" Garcia asked Hotch and Prentiss when she called them to tell them what they found. "A murdering pedophile paints clowns, and people hang them on their walls. It's creepy on so many levels. I mean, clowns—"

"Garcia, I didn't know you had that hang-up," Morgan said.

"Coulrophobia — abnormal fear of clowns," Prentiss added.

"Oh, no, there is nothing abnormal about it," Garcia said. "When I was twelve, a hobo clown groped my breast at a birthday party and made this old-timey honking noise when he did it. Apparently making it funny makes it ok."

"Bruh," Florence muttered with wide eyes. She suddenly felt like her fear of the dark and raccoons were practically unwarranted compared to that story.

"Were you able to find any auctions on angel maker memorabilia?" Prentiss asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, my vision. I found a ton. Mr. Maker was quite the self-promoter. He autographed everything — photos, panties, and for the discerning collector, screwdrivers."

"You got to be kidding me," Morgan said, scoffing.

"Yeah. He also made these little origami figurines out of cigarette boxes," Florence told them "Garcia is trying to talk me out of buying the dolphin, but it's really cute."

"Did you pinpoint the most active collectors?" Morgan asked.

"That would be his overseas fans."

"What about local buyers who also turned up on the prison visitor log?"

"Zilch."

"What about sellers?" Prentiss asked. "High-volume brokers might know a broader spectrum of fans."

"There is one guy in particular who seems to be the local distributor, as it were."

"You got a name?" Morgan asked.

"Shebang!" Garcia exclaimed, pulling up his name. "Sid Rutledge."

"Rutledge?"

"You know him?" Prentiss asked Morgan.

"He's a guard at Hawkesville."

Once Florence rattled off his address, Morgan and Prentiss headed to interrogate him. Then she turned to Garcia, who immediately shook her head.

"I'm not gonna sit here and have you make fun of me about the clown thing," she said, crossing her arms.

"Oh, no, I'm literally scared of so many things that I probably shouldn't be scared of."

"Like what?"

"Like the dark, squirrels, raccoons, bugs, having to call the doctor to make an appointment, Chuck E. Cheese, those Furby dolls," Florence listed while counting on her fingers. "I could go on."

"Raccoons and Chuck E. Cheese?" Garcia asked, trying to not laugh.

"Spence told me they have rabies and maul people for food. Not only that, but they wear those little masks like super villains hiding their identity," she explained. "And I went to Chuck E. Cheese for a birthday party once and spent most of it hiding from him under a table."

"You poor thing, how do you even get out of bed every morning?"

"Usually because I roll onto the floor while trying to turn off my alarm."

|||

For the rest of the case, Florence and Garcia spent their time delving into the lives of those obsessed with the original Angel Maker. By reading the letters between the unsub and the Angel Maker, the team — well, Spencer — deduced that the unsub had gotten pregnant with his child. That left them searching for birth records for the area, which proved to be a lengthy list.

"Ok, there were four hundred and sixty-three children born in the Lower Canaan area between 2006 and 2008," Garcia said to JJ over the phone. "So if you want us to find baby Angel Maker, we're gonna have to narrow this down."

"All right, well, Reid still has more letters to decode, but he did find a phrase: I knew even before they told me that the future had taken root," she said.

"Taken root? Sounds like someone got good news," Garcia realized.

"Date of conception."

"And the date of that letter?" Florence asked.

"Uh, January 7, 2007."

"Ok, so we fast-forward 9 months—"

"Uh, 10 months, actually," JJ interrupted.

"Really?"

"Gross," Florence mumbled. She couldn't imagine carrying a whole child for ten months.

"I know," JJ said, sighing. "It was news to me, too."

"Ok. So we'll search birth records from August to September 2007. How's that? We'll do single mothers only, in case she wanted to keep the father a secret. You know, didn't want to brag. Oh, your baby daddy's a third-grade teacher? Well, mine likes to poke people in the stomach with tools, so there." Florence snickered as Garcia did her thing. Soon, she had a list of names to give to the team. "There. Nine names. Now that's a little more manageable."

And manageable it was. It didn't take too long for them to narrow the list down to Chloe Kelcher. Apparently, she was on the jury when the Angel Maker was sentenced, and that was when she fell in love with him. Now, Florence was no expert on romance, but she was pretty sure that a courtroom wasn't the sexiest of places.

Eventually, they caught her or at least thought they did. Kelcher ended up stabbing herself to complete the last constellation. And according to Morgan, Hotch had damaged his ear even further when the Sheriff shot his gun next to his head.

Florence had plenty to say about that, which amused everyone else. Usually, it was Hotch yelling at her about being more responsible, not the other way around. While he wouldn't pull himself out of the field, Hotch at least agreed to drive back to Quantico instead of fly. As soon as she heard that he would be out of the office for a few days, Florence ran out of the office, not giving Garcia any explanation.

|||

When the team landed and made their way back to the bullpen, they were met with Garcia. She was leaning against Morgan's desk and kept glancing at the briefing room.

"Hey, Mama," Morgan greeted her while putting his go-bag down. "What are you doing up here?"

"Before I tell you to go in the briefing room, I just want to preface with the fact that she ran off to do this the very second you told us that Hotch wouldn't be coming back with you," she said, grinning. "She says you're only allowed to play if you don't tell him about it."

"About what?" Rossi asked, not sure if he should be worried or not.

Garcia nodded her head to the briefing room and they all made their way to it. They could hear the music before they opened the door. Prentiss was the one to open the door as she muttered a quiet, "Oh my god," before the others could even see.

On the screen that was typically used to show pictures of crime scenes and dead bodies, was Just Dance. There was a Wii set up on the table and plugged into the tv. Florence and Anderson stood in the center of the room dancing to Umbrella by Rihanna.

"Anderson is much better than her," Rossi whispered to the others. He was so amused by the situation that he didn't bother to do his job and make them stop and get back to work.

It was true. Anderson's moves were crisp and well-timed while Florence's were awkward and sloppy. She was clearly having fun though as she tried to shove Anderson out of frame.

"Even with cheating, you're going to lose," he said, easily recovering.

"I play winner," Morgan spoke up, announcing their presence. "Which is going to be Anderson."

Florence gasped and looked over her shoulder, missing another move. "I'd appreciate some confidence, guys."

"You're thousands of points behind and the song is almost over," Prentiss pointed out.

And thirty seconds later, Florence lost. Anderson, who had barely broken a sweat, smirked at her triumphantly. She stuck her tongue out at him before flipping her hair over her shoulder and walking over to the others while Morgan took her place.

JJ wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "You do know we're gonna have to tell Hotch about this on Monday."

"Or, you could not," she said, pouting. "Also, you've had your Just Dance privileges revoked."

|||

While Prentiss and Reid were off in Colorado trying to see if some church leader was a pedophile, Florence was wandering around the building. She had finished an appropriate amount of paperwork for Garcia to set her free. She had been lightly scolded earlier in the week for the Just Dance incident, but Hotch let her off the hook for the most part. She had to promise never to do it again, but Florence had crossed her fingers behind her back as she did — something everyone else on the team saw as they stood behind her to witness the scolding.

Now, things were seemingly back to normal. Hotch's ear was getting better every day and Florence was back to annoying him like their touching moment after New York never happened.

"Hey, Ro," Florence said, waltzing into his office where he was chatting with Hotch about a previous case. "Can I have twenty bucks?"

"Sure," Rossi said, already pulling out his wallet.

Hotch looked between the pair with narrowed eyes. "Why do you need twenty bucks?"

Rossi waved him off. "I've learned that it's better not to ask her what she spends my money on."

Hotch sighed and turned to Florence, who was pocketing the money. "Why do you need twenty dollars from Rossi?"

"Well, apparently there's this candle that smells like Harry Styles at Target, so I'm going to head over there on my lunch break and buy two."

"You're right," Hotch said, rolling his eyes and turning to Rossi. "I shouldn't have asked."

"Hotch!" When Morgan suddenly shouted his name, they all ran out into the bullpen. Morgan and JJ were looking up at the TV which had the news on. "The TV. Prentiss and Reid."

The news was reporting that there was a standoff with authorities and the religious farm that Reid and Prentiss had visited. Each side was armed and shots had been fired. "No one knows for sure how many people are inside. It is believed at least 3 of the child service members are still trapped within the compound."

Suddenly, all of the phones in the office started to ring.

"All right, that means we're the lead with hostage rescue and support," Hotch said. "Let's go."

Florence quickly made her way to her office to notify Garcia. She tried not to think about how much danger Reid and Prentiss were in as she did so. It was likely going to be a long couple of days, and she needed to keep it together.

Once the team was in the air, they video called Garcia and Florence to go over the situation. They pulled up the same news channel from before, where the anchor was recapping everything.

"Turned deadly when the Colorado state police officers tried to serve a warrant. Colorado Attorney General Jim Wells says the reclusive cult has been the subject of a six-month weapons investigation."

"Six months," Morgan repeated. "We didn't check?"

JJ sighed. "No. We checked. I had ATF call wells. He told ATF there were no pending state investigations. He lied."

"Why?" Rossi asked.

"Wells is challenging the Governor in the next election. He thought that ATF was about to poach his big election-launching weapons bust. Now it's clear he didn't know there were FBI agents there. He just thought the best time to serve a state warrant was when the kids were safe inside the school being interviewed."

"What do we know about this sect?"

"Liberty Ranch was founded in 1980 by libertarian Leo Kane. He created it as a self-sustaining commune."

"Libertarians believe that everyone has the right to do what they want as long as they aren't infringing on the rights of others," Morgan added.

"But libertarians aren't religious," Rossi stated. "Clearly this sect abandoned libertarian principles."

"Benjamin Cyrus, the current leader, introduced religion eight years ago when Kane left," Hotch told them.

"Garcia, Ren, what do we got on Cyrus?" Morgan asked them.

"Whole lotta nothing," Florence muttered. "Homeboy never did anything on Earth ever."

"However his predecessor, Leo Kane, is doing a seventeen-year stretch at Deerfield Federal Prison," Garcia added. "Apparently libertarians do not like paying taxes."

"Oh, can one of you guys teach me how to do those," Florence mumbled as an afterthought.

"Seventeen years for tax evasion?"

"Oh, no. That would be two years for tax evasion and fifteen for going after four IRS agents with a Louisville slugger."

"Let's have Kane brought to the scene. He's our best chance at finding out some idea of who we're dealing with."

Once they hung up, Garcia and Florence got back to work, trying to find out all they could. Unfortunately, the thing about underground religious cults is that they had very little to no online presence. They didn't have security cameras that could be hacked into or browser history to comb through. Reid and Prentiss were in danger, and Florence had never felt more useless.

Hotch and Rossi kept them in the loop. After they arrived in Colorado, Rossi had been appointed as the head negotiator. He had tricked Cyrus into letting them deliver supplies to them, which they managed to bug so they could hear what was going on.

Eventually, Morgan learned from Kane that Cyrus' real name was Charles Mulgrew. That finally gave Florence and Garcia something to dig up, which they called to tell the team about.

"Charles Mulgrew. Convicted in Kentucky at the age of eighteen — three counts of statutory rape."

"So we need to talk to the warden?" Morgan asked.

"Way ahead of you, honey," Garcia said. "Mr. Kentucky warden said that once inside, Mulgrew found religion. Became a model citizen."

"Well, it's not that hard to behave when you're in protective custody the whole time."

"General population's a rough place for a child molester," Hotch added.

"No, like, he was an actual model citizen," Florence stressed. "He volunteered in the prison hospital and read to prisoners dying of HIV."

"Good stuff," Morgan told them.

"Damn straight. Now get our friends back, baby," Garcia said before hanging up.

Shortly after that, the media had leaked that the FBI had someone on the inside. Thankfully, their source only said one instead of two. Unfortunately, Prentiss took the blame and from how it sounded, she had received a horrible beating for it. Florence could only be thankful that they didn't kill her.

Prentiss eventually got word to the others that Cyrus was planning a mass suicide by blowing up the ranch. The team was planning to raid in the middle of the night and try to get as many survivors out as possible. There was nothing to do but wait until three in the morning.

Florence was tired, but neither she nor Garcia even thought about sleeping as they anxiously waited for the call that everything was okay. Soon after three, they received the call that Prentiss and Reid had made it out of there before the ranch exploded. A weight had been lifted off their shoulders, but they still didn't go home. Florence settled into a desk chair in the bullpen and napped until everyone safely returned.

That was where Reid had found her, with her head on his desk and loudly snoring, waiting for him. He nudged her gently.

"Ren, we're back."

She sat up abruptly and looked around for a minute before focusing on Reid. She immediately sighed in relief and rubbed her eyes. "Oh, I am so glad to see you. Where's Emily?"

"She headed straight home to rest. I just came up to grab my bag."

While Spencer gathered his things from his desk to take home, Florence spun around in her chair. "Teach me something, Boy Genius. Something random."

"Hmm, did you know that armadillo shells are bulletproof."

"You should just make your vest out of them then," she said, chuckling to herself.

"Why do you do that?" Reid asked suddenly.

"Do what?" Florence asked, tilting her head.

"You always ask me to teach you new things," he stated, shyly looking down at his hands. "Everyone always hates it when I ramble off useless information. And you always complain about having to learn new things. Are you just making fun of me or something by it?"

Florence frowned and hopped off her chair to stand in front of him. "Spence, I'd never make fun of you for being smart. And I mean, I don't always remember the facts you tell me, but that's not the point. The point is that you like telling people all the things that you know. It makes you happy to tell me about dinosaurs and armadillos and soccer balls, so I don't mind asking about them."

Reid smiled up at her. "You just do it to make me happy?"

She shrugged as if it was nothing, but it wasn't to him. "You should be proud of all you know, Spence, and don't ever let anyone make fun of you for knowing it. And do your best to never get in another situation like this last one. I couldn't have gone on if we'd lost you."

"Yeah, you could've," he mumbled.

"No, I couldn't," Florence insisted. "Every day when you guys are out in the field, all I can do is sit at my computer and hope that you don't get hurt. It's nauseatingly gross how much I care about all of you guys. So please do your best to not die on me, Spence. Please."

"I'll do my best," he said, smiling. "Would you like to know more about armadillos?"

"Knock yourself out, Pretty Boy."

"Well, contrary to popular belief, there's only one species of armadillo that can roll up into a ball to defend itself — the three-banded armadillo. This is because the others have too many plates in their shells which limit their flexibility."

Reid told her about armadillos on the whole walk out of the building. And he probably could've gone on even longer, but they both were tired and wanted to go home. Florence declined his offer to drive her home, knowing it was in the opposite direction of where he needed to go.

The next morning when Reid got to work, he stopped to look at something on his desk. There was a small bracelet woven out of red embroidery thread and it was sitting on a pink sticky note, and it made him smile.

Dear Boy Genius,

Never stop teaching people new things.

—♡ Ren