Becoming A Profiler

Emergency Contact

Yes it had been an exciting week. Nearly dying at the hands of a religious OCD fanatic tends to make you feel a little...bouncy.

I'd gone home as soon as I could. JJ had said there wasn't a new case yet, so we had time to relax before the next case.

Settling down on my couch, I got ready for a night of Planning. Tonight would be another re-watch of 'Won't Get Fooled Again', possibly watching it four times before going to bed. My coffee table was already set-up with my Criminal Minds labelled notebook, some blueberries in a bowl, and every colorful pen I owned (yes I color coded my notes, shut up). There was a blanket to pull up over my legs (I kept my apartment cold, sue me). Everything was perfect.

Before the phone rang.

Now, I was half expecting it. With all my earlier talk of 'before the next case', I thought I'd jinxed it. That not saying it outloud would keep away the jinx. Plus there were a lot of cases over the years that weren't on the show. I'd lost the naivete to believe that just because the show started that the random cases would stop with it.

So I picked up the phone, checking the ID. Mostly out of habit.

'The Brain (Not Pinky, We Checked)'

A tired groan came out of my mouth. This was followed by my head falling back on the couch.

Have I mentioned Megan Quinn had a past before I showed up? She's a foster kid, turns out. She grew up bouncing from house to house. Looking back, it wasn't that different from my own life. The longest house Megan had lived in (3 years, for high school) was the Curry house, with their son David Curry, and his best friend who practically lived at the house anyway, Robbie Garcia (not related to Garcia, I checked).

Apparently the three of us became inseparable friends. I don't know how, it's mind boggling. They stayed close up until Megan moved away their senior year. They had a few scattered letters, and emails. It got easier once Megan created a Facebook page. What David and Robbie didn't know was that by that time, it wasn't Megan Quinn anymore it was Morgan Spencer.

They were better off not knowing.

I could barely explain it to myself. How could I explain it to others?

They were cool, too. Funny.

The phone was still ringing. I answered it.

"Hey..." I greeted, tiredly. "What's up?"

"What's up? WHAT'S UP?!" David shouted. I flinched, barely holding back a groan. Good thing I'd already put him on speaker or else he'd have blown off my ear. I put the phone down on the coffee table as he continued to shout. "That's all you have to say?! What's up?!"

'Well I have the entire English language to butcher if you'd prefer.'

That would've made the shouting worse, so I just said 'yes'.

"WHAT THE HELL MEGAN?"

'Okay. I should've just gone with what I wanted. Wouldn't have made a difference.'

"They told me you could've died!"

"Huh? When?"

"Yesterday!"

"I didn't nearly die yes-" It all came to me in a lightbulb moment. "Oh my god."

"Yeah 'oh my god'!" David snapped. "What were you thinking?!"

"How did- why did- how did you know about that?" I asked, incredulous.

"I'm your emergency contact!" David reminded me. "They told me you'd been involved in something that you almost got hurt in, and when I asked the lady she said you nearly died!"