Knowing the Narrative (Profiler, Profiled)

James Novak looked up as a man in his mid fifties and a business suit walked into the room. His first impression was that this was a man accustomed to being listened to. On his heels was a woman who couldn't have been far out of her teen years. He couldn't even identity the color of her hair. What struck him was her eyes and the strong, tired look in her face. She had seen more in her life than most, more joy and more sadness.

“Castiel. My name is Aaron Hotchner I'm with the FBI.” The man said taking a seat.

“I'd like to ask you a few questions, is that alright?”

“What is your friends name?” Castiel replied instead.

“My name is Sasha Jordan Scott. Is Dean the only one who calls you 'Cass'?”

Castiel sat straight up in his chair. “How do you know that?”

“Dean has referred to you by that name three times in the last 45 minutes.” Aaron Hotchner answered. “Is it reserved for him?”

“No, Sam calls me that rather frequently.” He looked from the FBI agent to the woman and back again. “What is your purpose here?”

“To try to get you to stop killing people. To find out why Sam is hunting these people, what makes them monsters in the eyes of the Winchesters and to discover why you are with them.”

“Most of that I can agree with. But I'm not convinced talking to you is a good idea.”

“Because you think you can't get through to us? Or because Dean wouldn't like it if you talked to us?” Hotchner inquired.

“Because for all your honorable intent you don't understand the Winchesters. And there is no way to convince you of the truth.” Castiel said sharply. He took a short breath.

“And because Dean asked me not to say anything.” He finished lamely.

“I think you'll be more inclined to answer my questions.” Sasha prompted. “They are slightly more informed than what you would here from Hotchner's team.”

“I make no promises.” Castiel responded, considering her carefully. “But go on.”

“How long has it been since Jimmy Novak's soul ascended to heaven?” Castiel sat up even straighter than he had been. Hotchner performed a similar maneuver. “None of the three of you have ever met me before. But I do feel like I know you, for whatever reason. I know you consider yourself the Winchesters guardian. I know you were super worried Dean was still especially pissed at you at one point but when it was all over he tried to defend you. I know only two things seem to matter to you: what Dean thinks of you, and Dean himself. I know you didn't like Sam at first but he taught you a lot. Dean may be the righteous man but they are both good men. Now please tell me, how long has it been since the cemetery?” As if to make some sort of a point she holds her right hand next to her head and snaps her fingers once. The gesture must mean something because Novak's face instantly calms, his entire body seems to calm, thoughtful and purposeful. “Five years.”

“Emmanuel.” James Novak nods.

“Clarence.” Another nod.

“Gadreel.” Novak starts but nods, wordlessly.

“Hannah.” For the first time since he was brought into the station the man looks uncomfortable. As if he just now realized the woman across from him should not know

any of these things.

Sasha for her part seems to have retreated into herself slightly. Her hand to her chin, as if deep in thought. She squeezed her lips tight. “Hotch, we have two people we need to find right the hell now.”

“Amelia and Claire Novak.” Hotch said without hesitation.

“No! You leave them alone.” Castiel demanded, his voice low, almost thunderous.

“You do remember them?” Hotchner says with no small amount of surprise.

“He's suddenly feeling bad about his vessels family.” Sasha noted, almost absently.

“What. Are you. Doing?!” Castiel growled, punching out almost every single word.

“You misunderstand me Castiel.” Sasha said softly. “I'm not trying to threaten you.”

“And neither are we.” Hotchner interjected, trying to force some semblance of reason into the conversation. “We just want to make sure they're safe. And at the risk of sounding like a complete and utter douche bag. Dao si obećanje Džimiju. Pokušaću da ti pomognem da ispuniš to obećanje.” She stood up and walked out of the room.

Aaron Hotchner or 'Hotch' as most of his team called him waited a few moments. He pushed his chair back away from the table. “What did she say?”

“I...I don't understand.” The man was all but frozen in place. His eyes seemed to be the only thing working besides his jaw. “I don't understand.”

Sensing they weren't going to get anything else out of the man, Aaron stood turned, and walked out of the room.

Castiel looked down at his hands, and then up at the one way mirror. His assurance at apparently having found an ally undercut by his confusion at the detail of that ally's knowledge. This woman, Sasha had not only known Jimmy Novak was quite literally no longer with him, she had even known to call Jimmy his vessel. Most concerning, she knew the exact moment he had been atomized by Lucifer. Lucifer, who, possessing Sam's body had merely snapped his fingers once and ripped his body, his vessel – Jimmy Novak – to shreds. 'you made a promise to Jimmy. I will try to help you keep it.'

“..Then we have to find a way to reach Jimmy Novak.” Hotchner concluded.

“Castiel.” Sasha interjected. Hotchner, JJ and Prentiss all looked up at her. “If you want to get anywhere with these guys, call him Castiel. It's what he prefers to be called. You should call him that for that reason alone. As far as the man in there is concerned Jame Novak died 5 years ago!”

“You mean we have to join the narrative in order to fight them?” Rossi's comment drew a vague, tight smile from their friend.

“I'm saying you have to approach the narrative from their standpoint rather than your own. These guys are the hero of their own story and their lives have given them a master class at seeing through other people's bullshit. Castiel is practically autistic which means he reads people as clearly as I do.”

“I've been meaning to ask you about that.” Reid admits.

“Discerner of the motivations and intentions of the heart. Everything that is not of the body. I read body language like words but...”

“You feel everything as clearly as if it was directed at you.” The unit chief Aaron Hotchner surmises.

“Being around someone like Morgan actually makes me a little nauseous. Intense, unrestrained, unfiltered, if there weren't so many other input patterns in the room you would feel destructive.”

“Input patterns?” JJ asked, suddenly struggling to keep up with the conversation.

“The multiple sources in the room. And the stabilizing influence some of us are having on you.” Reid clarified.

“JJ is a protector, and a mother twice over. Protects her family and her team. Her emotions are natural, even if they can't always come out. Rossi and Prentiss are very schooled. I couldn't get a read on either of them if I tried. The very fact that they keep such a tight rein on their emotions means there's not much there for me to read. I can give generalizations. You're both professionals and in your own ways a lot like soldiers. Duty, honor, sheep dogs.”

“Sheep dogs?” JJ queried.

“Happy and normal until someone attacks your flock. Which is where this ties back into your case.”

“I was wondering when we were going to get back to that.” Morgan huffed.

“Castiel considers himself the Winchesters guardian, their protector. He honors your work, what you attempt to do day in and day out. He's just shaking his head that you are so completely wrong about who he considers to be righteous men. Or at least Good men. Don't try to reach Jimmy Novak. Try to get through to Castiel. And by the way, the Winchesters didn't do that. At least, not intentionally.”

“Do I want to know?” Aaron Hotchner and David Rossi asked simultaneously.

“If you ask the question I'll assume the answer is yes.” Sasha replied, a bite to her voice that hadn't been there before.

Reid raised his hands. “Actually we should stop to think about whether any of us even DO want to know. And apply what we've learned to the case..to the people,” He corrected himself “..in the holding cells.”

“I'm all for that.” Prentiss acknowledged.

Her comment effectively ended the conversation as everyone who wasn't already standing stood up, gathered files and made their way out the door.

Hotchner walked up to Sasha. He didn't speak right away. “I did notice you kept throwing some, surreptitious glances my way while you were talking about being an empath. Am I easy for you to read?”

“Yes but, it wouldn't have been respectful to share publicly what I get from you. It is too easily misinterpreted. Or seen as a violation of privacy. Justifiably so.”

“I appreciate it.”

“It wasn't just for your sake Aaron. I don't need these people hating me because I violate personal boundaries.”

“Still, I appreciate it. What do you sense from me?”

“The part relevant to this case? Castiel would see you as a kindred spirit. He is a warrior of God, a solider. At one time he would have done whatever it took to accomplish his mission. And that still drives him. And yes I am talking about Castiel not you. But it describes you as well, doesn't it?”

Aaron Hotchner didn't answer. He knew there wasn't the need.

Flashed of Captain Jack

 Samuel Francis Taylor was strolling down a rather deserted Georgia Ave in Washington DC. He'd just had a promising interview at Tubman elementary school and was feeling like grabbing a quick latte at Starbucks before heading home. It was a very ordinary-feeling morning, and had been, it seemed, a very ordinary couple of weeks. Now those who knew him best knew him as a man of action, a solider. And it is not easy for a solider to stomach the ordinary, the mundane...at least not for very long. “But that's why I did this isn't it? So I could have an ordinary life?” It troubled him greatly That his life was so empty compared to what it had once been. What he could not have guessed was his life was about to get much less uninteresting.

There he was, seated at the front window table at Starbucks drinking his customary Peppermint Latte, the epitome of minding one's own business, and he found the person sitting along the far wall starring at him. He tried to ignore it, and for about 4 and 1/2 minutes he succeeded. Eventually he couldn't stand it any longer, and walked up to the man.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Taylor asked softly, but firmly.

“I'm sorry to stare.” the man replied in a gentle tone. “It's just you remind me of someone.”

“Is it a good thing or a bad thing that I do so?” Taylor asked with a bit of a sardonic edge.

“Well, I guess a good thing. Take a seat if you want. I think we'd attract less attention that way.”

“I can't argue with you there.” Taylor replied, pulling out the seat across from the stranger. “So who is this friend I remind you of?” he continued conversationally.

“Oh I'm not mistaking you for him.” The younger man said quickly. It's just you remind me of an old friend, whose been around the universe a time or two...his words not mine.”

“Hehe, this might be a smaller world than I gave it credit for.” Taylor said grinning.

The younger man stared at him as though sizing him up. An embarrassed look crossed his face for a moment but Samuel just shrugged as if to brush the awkwardness away. “Listen,” the younger man said slowly “I realize how strange this is to ask in a city this sprawled, but are you new to the area?”

Taylor raised an eyebrow but made no vocal comment. He was too busy figuring out how to reply to the question. He didn't know if he was right that this young stranger was a professor at one of the colleges in town, but he was clearly an academic. Getting the impression he was in the middle of a staring contest he raised his eyes to meet the other man's and replied softly. “I have a place some blocks north of here, but have only been here for a few weeks. Not sure if I'm staying...” he eyed the man steadily and, deciding there was nothing sinister about his demeanor. It stood in his mind that there was no harm in opening up, at least a little bit. “It depends if I get a job in the next month or so.”

“What sort of work do you do?” the stranger asked, sounding a little too interested.

Still, Samuel was courteous as he replied.“I don't wish to seem rude but...I don't really know who you are.”

“My name's Spencer, Spencer Reid.” the young man said amiably.

“Call me Samuel.” Taylor replied. Spencer's face actually seemed to droop at that. “What is it?”

“Nothing. It's just I thought you might have been the Captain.” Samuel's expression grew stunned and his back straightened sharply. “What is wrong?” the younger man asked, genuinely concerned.

“Well, first of all, how can you think I'm him and not know for sure by my face? Secondly, if you mean Jack Harkness, we have a question and answer session coming up.”

Spencer Reid's demeanor grew uncomfortable. His entire body seemed to quiver as he replied. “Ah, I'm not sure where to go from here.”

“I can understand that.” Jack, as you'll remember was his real name, replied calmly. “I'll assume The Doctor is the man whose 'been around the universe a time or two'. I'd say we should start there.”

There was a note to his voice that Spencer found confusing, but he decided not to put his new friend off by saying so. So he lowered his voice and stated: “True, but not here. We might draw some...unwanted attention.”

Jack couldn't argue with the logic of that statement. And in view of the stares they were already receiving by the indoor patrons, he saw only one other course of action. He just hoped he didn't sound like he was inviting the man to a romantic dinner or something like that. “My flat's about 10 blocks away?” He ended his words on a high note to indicate that it was merely a suggestion as well as his hope for agreement.

Spencer was on the point of agreeing when his mobile rang. He drew it out and saw 'JJ' on the ID. “Not the best timing in the world!” He said calmly, but clearly irritated.

Jack just grinned. He wasn't sure who this kid was, but had made up his mind to do whatever he could to find out. It was a sensation Spencer thoroughly shared. Jack watched Spencer methodically pack his laptop and dress in his layers. It was fairly simple, his next step. And fairly obvious.

“Ten blocks north, two blocks East, apartment 103. I'm there almost all hours of the day. And I know enough of you to know it's as good as telling you the address.”

Spencer looked up. Something about the Captain told him not to let this guy walk off into the night. “Do you have a pen and paper handy?”

“Never leave home without them.” Jack replied cheerfully as he drew the requested items out of his pocket. Spencer wrote furiously on one of them.

“Here's my cell number. We have a lot to talk about when I get back.” He hesitated. Something was incredibly different about this man, almost contradictory. He made up his mind to do everything in his power to find out what; and there was only one way he knew to do that. “Jack, do you want to come with?”

Jack's expression held a greater degree of amusement than surprise. “It's weird for me to hear you call me that. But it makes sense I guess. But what would I do? For that matter what do you do?”

Spencer chose to ignore what he thought was sarcasm. “Help my team and I solve what's at least a double-homicide. I'm with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. We call ourselves the BAU.”

“It'll be nice to see if I'm actually up for some of this weirdness.” Jack said in reply as he stood up. While Jack walked back to his seat to get his jacket, Spencer called Hotchner on his cell phone and got the answering machine. “Hi Hotch, it's me. I'm bringing a friend with me on this case. I'll to assume you'll want things kept under wraps but...It's Captain Harkness. Enough said.”

“How much do you guys know about me?” Jack asked from the front passenger seat of Spencer's car.

'Not too much.” Spencer replied honestly. “Just that you traveled with a man we call 'the Doctor' and that you once met with Colonel Jack O'Neill.” Spencer looked over at his friend, waiting for some reaction at the name...none came. “Our team leader Aaron Hotchner and I met up with him at a restaurant a month or so ago...Do you not remember him?”

“Doctor Reid. I barely remember myself.”

“Then there's one more thing I ought to tell you. Only Hotchner, Garcia - our technical analyst – and I have even met the Doctor. I'm pretty sure no-one else on my team has a clue who he is...” Spencer paused his speech, hoping no further description was needed; it wasn't.

“...So don't bring him up as a character reference?” Harkness finished for him. “I got ya.”

“Who's your friend?” Agent Rossi asked the instant Spencer walked in to the conference room.
“My name is Captain Jack Harkness.” Jack said in reply, as though the question had been directed at him in the first place. “Spencer wanted me to join you in your latest case and I want to see if I can help.”
“I see.” Agent Hotchner said slowly. “Well I don't really see all that clearly. Why do you think you can help with murder cases?” Jack looked thoughtful for a second, clearly wondering how much he should say. Spencer quickly jumped in.
“Listen, I realize how weird this sounds. I'm asking you all to trust me on this, give him a chance.”
“Good enough for me.” Hotchner said. And clearing his throat, he continued with the briefing. “We have three dead women in San Francisco. Melissa Jansen, 34, murdered in her North Beach apartment home. Sophia Dristan 27, Condo in Pacific Heights, Cassidy Miles 34, in her loft above Fillmore Street Boutique. Each kill was 4 days apart, each with throats slashed and an incision in their left forearm. San Francisco police has invited us, unilaterally, but there are jurisdictional conflicts. The last murder was 2 days ago which means if the unsub keeps to his timetable, we have two days to prevent another murder. Wheels up in 20.”
Sidelong glances were cast in Jack's direction as everyone bustled out the door. He wisely chose to ignore them and kept his attention focused solely on the pictures of the crime scenes. An hour and a half later, as they flew to San Francisco, the typical examination of possible motive more or less over with, Jack asked Hotchner to come sit beside him. It was a request Hotchner had absolutely no problem adhering to.
“You're not as dubious as the other members of your team.” Jack observed quietly.
Aaron Hotchner looked Jack in the eyes a moment and let his gaze drift from the top of his hair to his waist. More specifically, to his wristwatch and pistol. “I don't know if having you here is a particularly good idea. On that much I agree with them. I'm curious as to your abilities and the best way to learn is in the field.”
Jack stared at him. This wasn't what he'd expected. “I'm not planning on joining the team or anything. I only want to have input in this case, I don't care about involvement in the group.”
“Well that will put Morgan at ease.” Hotchner joked dryly.
“I'll keep with my last remark and NOT ask what that meant. But tell me this, if you will, is Spencer's intuition usually right?”
Hotchner paused, unsure what to reply to that. “Spencer doesn't usually make intuitive leaps. But he knows what he's talking about most of the time. And nine times of ten he's correct in his conclusions.” Jack's mind seemed to process this information quite quickly. Of greater concern to Hotchner was how familiar he found the expression on the man's face. It was almost Reid-like. Eventually the look became more placid and Hotchner stopped staring. “Fair enough?” he asked the soldier-like man they'd brought along. Jack nodded.
Aaron stood up to join Derek Morgan and Agent Rossi near the front of the plane. “I assume you heard most of that.” he said as he sat down.
“Who is he?” Derek Morgan asked bluntly.
“Including Spencer, he and I have at least two friends in common...I'll explain that later. But he wants a chance to prove himself. I don't see a problem in giving him that chance...” Hotchner held up his right hand to stop Morgan from questioning his judgment. “It's not typical I know. Neither is Spencer taking a stranger on faith. Then again, for all we know Spencer's known him for a while, though this is the first we've heard of him. I don't know if he can help or not, but if he can I don't want to miss this opportunity. But profiling the Captain is not our assignment here, agreed?” Rossi nodded and turned back to his file folder. Derek shook his head as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing; but nodded his agreement nonetheless.
Almost 11 hours in San Francisco passed without incident. Hotchner and Jack had set up at the Pacific Heights office, David Rossi and Derek Morgan at North beach. Reid and JJ had gone to canvas Fillmore st. They were no closer to finding the killer, or even a theory as to how the 'unsub' as they called him selected his victims. It occurred to Hotchner that there was another 'fresh set of eyes' he could call on, that might actually give him some insight into the stranger they'd brought with them. At this very moment he was sitting across the table from said stranger, and they'd agreed to a 'no secrets' policy between them.
“You seem pensive.” Harkness observed without looking up from his papers.
“I have a call to make. An old friend of mine might be able to help.”
“What's stopping you. Unless it's me.” Now he had said this as a joke, but Hotchner's response of a sharply raised head was enough to show him the accuracy of his statement. “If you're scared to offend me, don't put yourself out. By your face, you're going to have your technical analyst look me up. I wouldn't put yourself out there either. I wouldn't trust half the stuff you might find about me. I mean that in the personal. I wouldn't trust it. But I won't be surprised or hurt one way or the other. It's up to you.” This was not a rushed or nervous statement on Jack's part. On the contrary, his voice seemed calm and collected; his words simply a matter of fact. Hotchner was certain he'd never met anyone as forthright, hard-headed & carefree as Jack Harkness, not in such confusing abundance. If the time had been convenient he would have loved to sit down and interview the man about his life story. As it was he picked up his cell phone and dialed a number from its memory. He walked to the edge of the room.
“Sarah, it's me. Yeah I'm on a case. Listen, I realize you wanted to be kept out of things but I really wish you were here right now.” He listened for a moment. “No, it's not about the murders, it's the case.” Jack hid a smile behind his hand. “There's someone here I wish you could meet. He's not a cop...A solider supposedly. His name's Jack.” Captain Harkness could almost feel the squeal of the person on the other end of the line. “Wait you know him?” Now it was Jack's turn to jerk his head and stare. He stayed that way a while. When Hotchner finally closed the phone and sat down, Jack kept his eyes focused on him as if his gaze was a laser beam.
“I'm to tell you that your enigmatic friend says 'hi'.” Hotchner stated calmly after a moment.
“I wish I knew what that meant.” Jack responded with a shake of his head and shoulder, as if trying to shrug off an annoying insect by his ear.
“You don't know who that is?” Hotchner asked curiously.
“I would say 'the Doctor', but you called her 'Sarah'. Either way, let's get back to work.” Jack turned back to his papers without another glance or word to his co-worker. And although he knew it was perfectly sound advice, in that getting back to work made sense, Hotchner was distracted. It was a strange situation unto itself, that Spencer would invite someone along for the ride. And learning that this man was a friend of the Doctor's, Aaron had naturally hoped to learn more of that particular enigma from Jack. But Jack was behaving as though he wasn't sure of his own history. It didn't feel like secrecy, more like uncertainty.
“What did she say by the way?” Jack asked several minutes later.
“Who, Sarah?” Hotchner responded, sincerely inquisitive.
“Yeah. What did she say about me? Am I up to this?”
Hotchner smiled quietly. “She said this falls into the list of things that you're good at.”
“She might be right. It feels right to be doing this...and I'm glad to be useful again.”
This statement made no sense to Hotchner, and he had no qualms about saying so. But he decided to be a bit more careful with his words. “Jack, no offense but I would think after traipsing around with Smith..”
“I literally wouldn't know sir.” Harkness said, blatantly interrupting him.
“Amnesia?” Hotchner asked simply.
“No not really. It's a long story that I'd rather get into later but essentially I wanted a new lease on life and that's exactly what the Doctor gave me.” Jack looked down at his hands then back to Hotchner.
“At the expense of the old one I take it?” The agent replied curiosity evident in his voice, concern etched into his facial features.
“Exactly that.” Jack replied, only mildly surprised at the other man's perceptiveness.
“I was getting that feeling Jack. And I admit I'm curious. But I won't bother asking you about it.”
Jack Harkness looked up and the man he knew he could consider his friend. Not because he'd backed off. But because he'd noticed Jack's oddities and had chosen not to bring them up. “Thank you.”
“Now, let's get back to work.” Hotchner replied with a twinkle in his eyes.