Aftermath: Compromising Positions

Criminal Minds/Percy Jackson and the Olympians

by Susan M. M.

Rated T

Author's Note:Standard fanfic disclaimer that wouldn't last ten seconds in a court of law: these aren't my characters, I'm just borrowing them for, um, typing practice. That's it, typing practice. I'll return them to their actual owners (relatively) undamaged. This is an amateur work of fiction; no profit beyond pleasure was derived from the writing. Based on characters and situations created by Jeff Davis, and Rick Riordan, and borrowed without their knowledge or permission, merely because I was curious to see what happened next, and neither Mr. Davis nor Mr. Riordan was likely to write a crossover! This snippet takes place almost immediately after the Criminal Minds episode "Compromising Positions," (Season 6, Episode 4, broadcast October 13, 2010) and is set in the Percy Jackson universe, where the Greek gods are real, and demigods roam the Earth, fighting monsters. This story is debuting as 'netfic - it has not been published in any fanzine.

Aftermath: Compromising Positions

Criminal Minds/Percy Jackson and the Olympians

by Susan M. M.

Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, sat in his office with the door locked. He was a handsome man, but his aristocratic features were hidden at the moment. His head was bowed, his face cupped in his hands. The dark-haired agent looked like a model for an Excedrin headache #34 commercial. Rows of bookshelves, filled with law books, criminology and psychology texts, filled the walls of the office. What room was not taken up with bookshelves held file cabinets, filled with far too many files of far too many dangerously sick criminals. On the bookshelf behind him was a golden statuette of blindfolded Justice, the scales in one hand, a sword in the other. On his desk were more files, a dying African violet in a clay pot, and pictures of his late wife and their son.

Hotchner smelled roses and myrrh. He looked up.

An attractive blonde woman stood before him, in front of the still locked door. She looked about his age, perhaps five years older, but certainly no more than that. She wore a cream-colored business suit; the jacket and skirt were Irish linen, the black blouse was Chinese silk. With the black leather briefcase in her hand, she looked like a dressed-for-success attorney. Dark glasses covered her eyes. Her features matched those of the statuette behind Hotchner.

He rose to his feet and bowed his head respectfully.

"Aaron, you look tired," she observed.

"I am tired," he confessed. "We lost one of our team."

"I'm sorry," she offered her condolences. "Too few of my children or my servants die of old age."

Hotchner shook his head. "Not 'lost' like that, thank goodness. Lost to another agency. She was transferred against my wishes, and being short-handed is hard on all of us." He smiled at her. "I hadn't expected you; this is a pleasant surprise." At least, he hoped it was pleasant. "What brings you to Washington?"

"Does a mother need an excuse to visit her son? Maybe I just wanted to check on my grandson." Themis, Goddess of Justice, picked up one of the photos of Jack. She looked at it, smiled, then put it back on the desk. "Or maybe I just came to impose on you for a decent cup of coffee. I've been living on sweet tea for the past three weeks."

Hotchner immediately went to the coffeemaker and poured her a cup. All the children of Themis were addicted to coffee. Hotchner, having worked in the FBI's Seattle office for some years, was a connoisseur of coffee, and had only the best hand-ground Costa Rican coffee beans in his personal coffeemaker. The coffee was harsh and dark, like justice. He added one sugar cube to sweeten it and a dash of cream to lighten it - just as mercy lightened justice. He stirred it and handed it to her.

"Thank you, dear." She sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, with the stately elegance and grace of a queen taking her throne.

"Sweet tea, the house wine of the South. You've been in Memphis?"

Themis nodded.

"The Lester Street murders?" he guessed.

She nodded again.

"I thought you were there, when the jury brought back a verdict in only two hours, and the sentencing hearing was the next day." Normally in a murder trial, especially a mass murder trial, the jury took longer. When they'd been so fast, he'd suspected his mother's hand in the matter.

She drank nearly half the cup without speaking.

Hotchner waited patiently. Mother or not, deities are like royalty. Hotchner knew better than to speak before he was spoken to.

"My children are no strangers to scars." Themis took another sip of coffee before continuing. "You've bled in my service before."

"Many times," Hotchner agreed ruefully.

"It is your heart that is wounded now," she diagnosed. Her voice was gentle, but firm; her tone made disobedience unthinkable. "Tell me."

"J. J., my media liaison, was transferred. The team was short-handed. I pushed Garcia, our computer analyst, to take her place. I ... pushed her too hard, to do J. J.'s job and her own, and when she couldn't do it, I ... was harsh with her. Too harsh. I apologized to her afterwards, but..."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Hermes, God of Travellers, Commerce, Roads, and Thieves, Messenger of the Gods, Creator of the Internet, encircled his arms comfortingly around FBI Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia. The god wore an ice-blue jogging suit with navy blue stripes that shrieked Rodeo Drive and designer running shoes - winged designer running shoes. The computer mastermind wore dangly earrings, three mismatched necklaces, a pink blouse, plaid skirt, and white tights with pink embroidered roses.

"Oh, Daddy, it was awful," Garcia told him.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Author's Note: In the universe of Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Percy and his friends are modern-day demi-gods, just as Hercules and Perseus were in ancient times. Being addicted to the books, my family and I sometimes like to play a game, asking who would be the divine parent of various TV characters. My son thought Penelope Garcia should be a Daughter of Athena, but since it was established in the show that Garcia was her stepfather's name, I thought it worked better if she had an Olympian father than an Olympian mother. As for Hotch, who better for him than the goddess of justice? (OK, so this means chef Sean Hotchner is technically only his half-brother. Big deal.)

The Lester Street murders were the most dreadful mass murder in the history of the state of Tennessee. (And given how often Tennessee history is written in blood, that's saying something.) On March 2, 2008, at 722 Lester Street, Memphis, TN, Jessie Dotson got into a fight with his brother and killed him. He then attempted to kill everyone else in the house, including his own nephews and infant niece, to get rid of witnesses. Fortunately, he only killed four adults and two children. He failed to kill two nephews and a niece (although they'll be scarred for life). The case took two years to bring to court, and a jury had to be obtained from Nashville, as an unbiased jury could not be found in Memphis. (Local public opinion advocated lynching.) The case took two or three weeks to try. The jury came back with a verdict of guilty of all six counts of first degree murder in less than two hours. The sentencing hearing was the next day - normally there are a few days, even a week or two, between the trial and the sentencing. Again, with lightning speed, the jury agreed on the death penalty. I used to work in the courthouse as a file clerk; believe me, that is unbelievably fast for a jury verdict and sentencing. Given that Dotson was convicted Monday, October 11, 2010, and "Compromising Positions" was broadcast Wednesday, October 13, 2010, the synchronicity made it a natural combination. As for sweet tea, it is a beverage most non-Southerners have never heard of, but immensely popular south of the Mason-Dixon line.