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You're going home, Laurens

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"At ease, laurens."

Abigail Laurens let her hands subconsciously rest on top of one another at the bottom of her back with her legs shoulder width apart; she's had three years and two tours of Iraq to perfect her stance.

"How many terrorists do you think you've had contact with, Laurens?"

"Sir?" Abby was beyond confused.

It was five am and she was yet to fully wake up; her Commanding Officer had told her to dress and head straight to her base commander's tent, she assumed she would meet other members of her team there as early morning starts were not uncommon in her position but when she entered the tent and saw just her Commanding Sergeant Major and Sergeant Major she feared that she was going to be sent on another covert mission to intercept a terror cell - a previous assignment that drove her to put in for an honourable discharge from the Army, a request that she will quickly learn was denied. Perhaps for the better.

"And how many of those do you think you've successfully captured, killed or disarmed?" the Sergeant Major continued.

Abby did not need to reply, her expression said it all.

"Are you hot, Sergeant Laurens?"

'Sorry!?' Laurens thought. Abby knew better than to question her commanding officer, even in the direction this was apparently headed, so instead she simply answered his question. "Boiling, Sir. It is 'hundred and twenty degrees.".

"Well pack a scarf, Sergeant. You're going to Virginia and it's only eighty degrees." Was Abby really seeing her Commanding Officer...smile? More than that, did he just make a joke?

She's known Commanding Sergeant Major John Moore for three, nearly four, years. He trained her, they were shipped out to Iraq together, they fought and killed and watched men die together, they interrogated war criminal after war criminal but Sergeant Abigail Laurens could count on one hand the number of times she had seen him smile; let's say they have worked together longer than the number of times he has showed any sense of obvious happiness.

"Your transfer has been approved. You're going home, Laurens."

"With all due respect, Sir, Virginia isn't my home." Abby had never requested a transfer, she'd requested honourable discharge, she wanted to go home, truly go home. She worried this was another mission, only not in the Middle East, which (if it wasn't) she should be thankful she was leaving Iraq. "I requested discharge, Sir."

"Three months ago yes, you did. But this is an answer to more of a...long term request. How would you like to trade those terrorists for serial killers and psychopaths?"

"Is that not what terrorists are, Sir?" Abby asked, half sarcastic, half deadly serious.

"You trained in the Academy didn't you, Laurens?" Moore asked, despite knowing the answer. Abby couldn't help but wonder if he was hugely involved in this.

"Yes, Sir. Before I joined the Army."

When Abby turned eighteen she joined the police academy, her father pulled a few strings - being the Captain of the sixtieth precinct had helped. She trained there with every intention of becoming a detective and, hopefully, one day, following in her father's footsteps. But, when he died eight months later, Abby ran. From her pending job in her father's precinct, from her mother and brothers, her family and her home; she joined the army, trained as an army doctor and was in Iraq months later. It wasn't until her last undercover mission did she regret every decision she'd made since her father's death.

"An SSA Aaron Hotchner has replied to your letter, Sergeant. Or rather, my letter." Moore smiled. Still smiling, what the hell was going on?

"Sorry, Sir? What letter? Who is Agent Hotchner?". Abby only knew what a supervisory special agent was because of her father. Whilst she was growing up he occasionally gave talks to FBI agents,  on these days Abby would always stay up late waiting for him to come and tuck her into bed whilst telling her the story of the agents he met, the talks he gave and the cases he'd assisted on while he was, wherever he was. Of course, more often than not, he would have to censor the stories he told her but she didn't care, she dreamt of working a case with her father one day and of catching the bad guys together. Funny how quickly a stray bullet can change that.

Moore finally stood up from behind his desk and moved in front of Abby, half smiling, Moore put his hand out to offer the Sergeant a seat, which she very gladly accepted. Once Abby had sat down Moore perched himself on the edge of his desk where he began to explain to a very confused Sergeant Abby Laurens.

"Sergeant Laurens, since you requested a discharge you have essentially been benched. You have not gone out into the field in three months. Abby," He used her first name, he had never called any soldier by just their first name.

'Am I being fired?' she thought.

"You are one of the best soldiers I have ever had the pleasure of serving with"

'Oh yep, I'm definitely being fired.'

"You know I am not one for showing any sort of emotion, but please believe me when I say, you are too good to simply go home. I understand that last mission was...difficult."

Abby had to stop herself from laughing aloud. That was beyond difficult, they lost four men, Abby held one of them as he died, just after they told each other they loved one another. Abby should've been one of them.

"But I could never forgive myself if I justified your discharge. Once your request crossed my desk I got in contact with an old friend of mine, he owed me a favour. During this tour we would not have found the number of bastards that we did without you, you identified things none of us ever thought of, you put information together faster than I have ever seen in my thirty years of service. You are too smart, Abby; too smart to go to working behind a desk."

"I never said I was going to work behind a desk, Sir." Abby managed to somehow crack a smile, she felt truly honoured to hear those words from her Commanding Officer.

"In my letter to Agent Hotchner I asked him about the work his team does and if he would be willing to give you a trial run, shall we call it?" Moore asked rhetorically, smiling still. This was the kindest Abby had seen him, he looked almost fatherly? Gentle?

"But, Sir, SSA that's the FBI. I am beyond under qualified." Abby allowed herself to laugh now. Yes, she had been in the academy and absolutely excelled, the Sergeant Major was right; Abby Laurens was incredibly smart but to actually join the FBI, that was something else entirely.

"Yes it is. Laurens, tell me, have you ever heard of the BAU?".

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