Sorry for being gone so long. I was caught up in the watchmen fandom that I've been working with, publishing a couple of one shots there. And I just watched a couple of episodes of Criminal Intent, a couple in particular with Nicole Wallace and Goren, who have always had my favorite dynamic. I was inspired to continue.

As always, read and review. (And thank you for reviewing deliriousdancer, TriggerHappyWorld, Travilah, star jelly, and BASIRIC. I know there are reviewers out there and I don't put my work in highly trafficable areas. Sometimes it just feels like I'm writing for myself, and I suppose thats ok.)

Chapter 8--

She was out there again. He pressed himself closer to the glass, looking out over the grass quad, rain drizzling down. Her loose hair was pulled back tight across her head, but some of it had fallen loose in the humidity, plastered to her wet neck.

"Dude, talk to her," Chuck was being his normal, insufferable self, though at least he was trying to help. He was sitting back on his bed reading a copy of Lolita because he heard that English chicks were easier to bang when you had good taste in books. He'd asked Harry, and he'd told him that the smart/sexy books were Lolita and Lady Chatterley's Lover, that they showed you were smart enough for literature and that you had a sexual side, without being pervy.

"Once again, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Whatever man. Could you wipe the drool off the window? I like to look out it once in awhile too," he flipped a page and sighed, "Maybe that Chat book would be a better idea?"

"Lolita makes you look smarter," Harry knew it was bullshit, since Chuck was more likely to bag girls for being attractive than for his reading material, but having similar interests helped.

Christina was handing out fliers, though this time he was pretty sure it was for the "Free Tibet" campaign. It had become her newest attraction, and she had started wearing red shirts with Tibetan symbols on them, pins stuck to her bag declaring the evils of China. He had little interest in Tibet, simply because in his mind there were more important matters at home than abroad, but he let her believe that it was important to him as well. He even attended some late night rally and held a candle for her cause, even as she stood at the podium hugging a tall, dark man.

He had managed to figure out some important things about Christina in their interactions. She was twenty, a sophomore like himself from upstate New York. She was raised by intelligent parents, possibly academics. But something had happened to her when she was young, something terrible. He had narrowed it down to sexual or physical abuse. She didn't respond to rejection well and often shied from the touch of men, but only when it was unexpected. She'd obviously schooled herself from responding violently, and he appreciated that more than if she cowered in her own fear. He wasn't sure what had happened to her.

Harry hated himself for knowing these things, because the only thing she had told him was that she was twenty, and that was only because it was her birthday and one of her friends made her wear a shirt with a large cake on the front. He knew all of these things about her because he paid attention. This wasn't good. This wasn't proper. Normal people didn't infer things like this from girls they barely knew. He felt like he was coming into her life in a way that was far from comfortable, but he didn't know what to do about it. He did it almost instinctively.

The book hit him in the back of his head as Chuck got up and moved to the closet, shucking off his shirt and getting ready to go to out. Probably with Emily, some blond soccer player he'd picked up at lunch.

"Man, if you don't make a move on granola girl I'm going to. Swear to god. I will go down there right now and ask her out. C'mon Harry. Y'know I can do it." Chuck pulled on a t-shirt with the faded emblem of the Peace Corps, a shirt Harry knew he had picked up from an ex-girlfriend.

"She's not your type."

"I like a challenge." He messed with his long bangs, slightly rakish looking, considering that he hadn't gotten a hair cut and pulled on a pair of canvas sneakers, well worn. Harry had to admit, he looked the part.

"You're bullshitting me," but he had gotten Harry's interest, and he was no longer perched on the window sill.

"Not at all. Femi-Nazi's hot for a hippie chick. Besides, everyone knows hippies are crazy in the sack," he smiled, grabbing his back pack and a bottle of water, "They're into all that tantric shit, or something. She probably knows how to do things other girls don't even dream of."

"You wouldn't." It felt like a threat. Harry wondered if it could be a threat. On either side.

"Wouldn't I? You're the psycho genius, right? I've seen you working on that psycho-babble shit. You tell me if I wouldn't do it." He was poised to exit the door.

Harry moved before he did, his body holding the door down, slipping between Chuck's body and the door. The threat finally averted, he ducked his head in mild submission.

"Fine. You've made your point." Chuck grinned, throwing his bag down on the floor next to his bed before lying down on his stomach and picking up another book "How to Pick Up 10's." "I hope you know that books bullshit. Never helping you again."

"You will. At least out of pity. I need help to bag myself proper ladies."

Harry made his way downstairs, pulling on a hoodie before he left the dorm, not bothering to dress like Chuck had been. He wasn't going to try and play her. He was just going to talk to her for a little bit, hopefully that would be enough to assuage Chuck's interest in her. He wasn't sure why he found it so distasteful. Chuck was the closest thing he had to a friend, but he couldn't imagine him with Christina. In a way, he was sure she was worth more than that.

Stepping outside he looked up to his dorm room, and sure enough, Chuck was sitting there, giving him a cheesy thumbs up before settling down at the window. Now he had an audience.

When he approached her, she was standing in the middle of the quad, covered in a light sheen of rain, pamphlets tucked protectively to her chest. Even though she was passing them out in the rain, she didn't let them get unduly wet.

"Hey, Harry, right? From Gage's PSY 240 class, right?" she smiled, tucking a loose strand of wet hair from her face unnecessarily.

"Uh, yeah." He couldn't formulate words in this setting. In class, he could hold his own, but talking with Christina without any sort of pretext was killing him.

"Hey, I heard he was arranging some sort of meeting between you and someone from the BAU? He really has a thing for you."

"Yeah, I'm not sure why."

"Cause you're really brilliant. Obviously." she scoffed, handing a flyer to a uninterested man in a blue over coat.

"Uh, thank you. I guess."

"No, really. I mean, I take the class cause I'm interested. You have a future in the field."

"What do you want to do with your life then?" he had always just associated her with Gage's class, and had never really thought of her in another capacity.

"Environmental Science with a minor in International Studies." she smirked at his expression, "I know, pretty obvious. I couldn't be more cliché."

"No, its not that bad..." he smiled as she raised an eyebrow, "Ok, its kind of cliché. Handing out flyers for Free Tibet and recycling. I mean, I wasn't expecting you to get a degree in Sports Medicine or anything."

"I will have you know that was my second choice." She looked down at her watch, "I got to go. I have a class at Miller. See you at psychology?"

"Yeah. Ok." She walked off and he risked a glimpse up at his window. Chuck gave him another over the top thumbs up, raising his hands above his head and dancing. Harry chuckled a little, turning his back on his friend and walking to Gage's office. He was supposed to meet a Dr. Spencer Reid in thirty minutes.