Chapter Text
CART wasn't exactly Stiles’ first choice.
Actually, the Computer Analysis Response Team wasn't even one of his top three, but he's already used to the way his life never goes quite as planned.
FBI had always been the plan, and he did get his in, even earlier than expected — sort of saving an op as an intern did have its advantages even if he'd only done it to take Derek and his stupid eyebrows off the most wanted list — but after interning through college and going through the academy, all while a bunch of hunters fought a hidden campaign against the supernatural, the Joint Terrorism Task Force had felt like the best — and most useful — bet.
The hunters didn't even see them coming, not when they expected claws and fangs but were instead met with the full extent of the law falling over their illegal weapons deals and links to various homicides. A dead werewolf is still a person, and the law kind of cares about that if you give them the chance to instead of trying to take things into your own hands. Especially if you present the whole thing as a delusional, widespread terrorist cell.
Except, once Monroe and The Minions — which Stiles maintains should have been the name of the hunter's hypothetical band — were taken down for good, he realized that his unit placement had mostly been a means to an end, and didn't quite scratch that itch he'd come to the FBI for. So he asks for a reassignment, and gets one.
And then keeps getting them.
Four distinct units in a single semester later, Stiles gives up on a permanent assignment and joins the CART, which just feels like a sequence of consecutive reassignments with less paperwork involved, given that their whole job is to support multiple squads and offices whenever called for. It's mostly remote, which means he gets to keep a small little office instead of flitting from one bullpen to the other, but it gets old real fast when most of his work is timeline building and chart linking.
That's probably why the e-mail catches him by surprise.
From: OTD/DES Exec Assistant
To: SA M. Stilinski, CART/DEL
Cc: AUC Jareau (BAU); ASC D. R. Whitaker (OTD/DES); HR Specialist; Timekeeper
Subject: TDY Detail — OTD/CART (DEL) to BAU/NCAVC (Quantico) — 90 DaysSA Stilinski,
Per the attached memo, you are assigned TDY from OTD/CART (DEL) to BAU/NCAVC, Quantico, for 90 days, effective 28 Feb 2018.
Report-to: BAU bullpen, 0730 hrs, 28 Feb 2018
Operational supv: AUC Jennifer Jareau
Admin supv/rater: ASC Daniel R. Whitaker (OTD/DES)
Duties: Acting Technical Analyst in support of BAU ops
Access: Complete the attached system access checklist; IT will provision upon arrival.
Funding/Time: Charge labor to Project Code: OTD-BAU-1802; OT pre-approval required.
Please acknowledge receipt by COB.
— Elaine S. Porter, Exec Asst, OTD/DES
He reads it twice before the words actually sink in, and even then they don't quite make sense.
Everybody's heard of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and Stiles is no exception. They've got one of the highest closure rates in the bureau, and an absolutely stacked team, which is why it makes absolutely no sense for Stiles to get tagged in as a Technical Analyst, they've got Penelope Garcia over there! What could they possibly need him for? And if anyone asks, he'll tell them that's the only reason he immediately started digging.
It doesn't take much — a few texts, some e-mails, slightly questionable use of company resources — for him to realize what's going on: Bulldozer Barnes has taken over.
Assistant Director Linda Barnes isn't an unfamiliar figure, he'd watched from the sidelines — in that train wreck spectator kind of way where you can't help but look even though it's obviously going to end badly — as she dismantled the International Response Team like its existence personally offended her, all in the name of ‘efficiency’ and the supposed ‘betterment of the bureau’ while all he saw was her padding her resume and climbing the ranks as if everyone else was only there as a stepping stone.
Then again, Stiles may be biased due to having worked with the IRT — mostly Monty, but he'd met the rest of the team too — a few times before, and also being a fan of the BAU's work in general. That team functions like a well-oiled machine, and even if a few small stalls happen here and there, that doesn't mean it needs replacing, especially since their closure rate speaks for itself. Also, he may or may not often drop in on Dr. Reid's classes ever since he started teaching at Georgetown, and from the way he talks about his team when discussing some of their previous cases, it wouldn't be fair to take them away from him.
He kind of hates that his first opportunity to work with said team has presented itself like this, but orders are orders. He'll just have to suck it up and make the best out of a bad situation — and maybe commit small acts of sabotage, if it helps to keep Barnes from bulldozing the BAU and rebuilding it to her image.
But that's something for future Stiles. Present Stiles needs to get through the next dozen emails before even considering any acts of rebellion.
Stiles slips into the room at the nick of time.
The BAU bullpen is already alive with the kind of movement expected on a mid-week morning: printers humming, screens awake, case boards wiped clean except for an ‘approvals’ column. It's not hard to identify some of the people gathered in between the rows of lined up desks, not when he's either seen them on TV or worked with them before, and Linda Barnes is hard to miss given her position on the mezzanine, looking down on all of them.
Barnes speaks from the rail above, something about oversight, tightening processes and showing results, but Stiles mostly tunes her out to watch the room instead.
There's some admin faces he can't exactly place, the kind of people who keeping things moving in the background so the main act can run smoothly, but he definitely recognizes Matt Simmons, even if he's only looking at the man's back as he stands at the aisle end, hands on his hips, listening to the speech.
Jennifer Jareau is easy to identify, he's seen her face on TV plenty of times, though not as closed off as it seems to be as she stands at the bottom of the stairs with a couple of thin folders in hand. He recognizes the next agent, who's standing by the desk next to Matt, as Luke Alvez, previously of the Fugitive Task Force. Stiles never worked directly with the man, but he did consult with the FTF a few times, mostly on the fake identity tracking part of things.
Neither of the three members of the main team look all that happy to be there, and Stiles can't really blame them.
Barnes closes off her short speech with a line about the same mission and higher standards, tells them to get to work, and retires to her office as if her presence alone should make things more efficient.
People disperse off to their duties like good little cogs in the machine, and Stiles sort of hovers by the door, hands on the straps of his backpack, not sure whether to walk up to the team or try to find wherever Garcia's office was and get comfortable while waiting for them to actually request his services.
The clicking of Agent Jareau’s heels as she walks in his direction takes the choice away from him.
“You must be the new Technical Analyst,” She greets with a press-ready smile, making Matt and Alvez turn around as well.
“Temporary,” he can't help but correct, “I mean, yes. I'm-”
“Stiles,” Matt greets, stony expression cracking slightly as they shake hands in greeting with the familiarity of occasional co-workers. “Good to see you're still in one piece.”
Stiles huffs, “You fall in front of a guy one time,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.
“You know each other, then?” Alvez chimes in, having completed the little half-circle around Stiles started by the other two agents, which would be slightly intimidating if Stiles hadn't spent his adolescence being thrown around by werewolves.
“We collaborated on a couple cases in the IRT, before-” Matt trails off.
“Before the big bad efficiency wolf huffed, puffed, and blew the house down.” Stiles completes, eyes momentarily glancing towards Barnes’ office just in case speaking of the devil happened to summon it.
The quip gets him two amused looks and a barely-there smile from Agent Jareau, so he counts it as a win.
“I'm Jennifer Jareau,” Agent Jareau offers a hand, which he promptly takes. “JJ is fine.”
“Luke Alvez,” Another handshake, firmer this time.
“Please call me Stiles,” He offers, “First name's a Polish tongue twister, and Stilinski still makes me check if my dad's standing behind me.” Before the questioning can continue, he adds: “Where should I set up? ‘Cause this stuff's kinda heavy.”
The question seems to snap them out of interrogation mode, but at the same time it's a reminder that one of their teammates is gone and he's about to settle into her space.
“I'll show you,” JJ offers, already moving, and Stiles rushes to keep up.
Garcia's office has a lot more breathing room than his, at least seven more screens than what he usually works with, and has clearly been cleaned out recently, given the lack of dust and personal items alike. Stiles thanks JJ, parks his backpack at the edge of the desk with some relief, and immediately sets to unpacking.
It's not all business, of course. There's his forensic laptop, chargers, adapters, and a label printer he doesn't leave without, but also a Rubik's cube, colored post-its, a bunch of extra gel pens he'll probably have chewed through at the ends by the end of the week, a thermos with the coffee he woke up too late to drink before coming over, his favorite headphones since no others seem to fit just right, a couple of protein bars, a small medkit he's grown too used to carrying around in case of small emergencies of the clumsy variety and a little bag with some self-care essentials like lip balm, eye drops, hand cream, sanitizer and tissues.
Stiles takes some time to spread his things out and wrinkles his nose when the mental comparison of wanting to mark his territory immediately comes to mind, even though he's aware that his presence will be temporary. Once he's done, he finally sits down — oh, comfortable chair, yes! — and finally gets started at becoming familiar with the BAU system.
Even if the opportunity to work in the BAU didn't come in the best of ways, he can still try to make the most of it while it lasts.
JJ comes in nearly an hour later, lips pressed thin, three folders in hand.
“Everything okay?” He can't help but ask, since her frustration is nearly tangible.
The practiced smile he gets for it doesn't quite land. “Everything's fine,” she assures, and he can't help but think of the meme with the dog in a room on fire. “I just need you to get some presentations ready on these for me,” she drops three manila folders on his desk, “We usually do this after taking the case, but Barnes wants us to sell it to her first, so give me a one-pager on each. Two have links in the header, third's paper-only but they say everything's been faxed over. Double-check anyway.”
Alright, straight to business then.
“Sure, I'll get on it,” Stiles nods, already opening the first folder, and immediately frowning when the case catches his eye, “Uh- you might as well not even try with this one,” he advises before JJ reaches the door, making her pause.
“What do you mean?” She asks, brows furrowed, walking back over to see what case he's talking about.
“It's just-” he flails a little, not sure how to phrase it in a non-offensive way, then gives up and goes for completely blunt, “Look, she's not gonna buy a pitch to look into murdered sex workers, even if it turns out to be serial. Have you seen her usual cases?”
JJ gives him a considering look, brows raising slightly, “I take it you have?” It's a non-answer, but he goes with it.
Stiles leads with a slightly sheepish smile, “I may have looked into her when I got the assignment, everybody knows the BAU already has a TA that's not going anywhere,” his eyes flick around the room and he adds, “voluntarily, at least. So- I had to know what's going on, and when it came down to Bulldozer Barn- I mean,” He clears his throat, pretends he didn't just use the nickname for their superior that should have stayed just inside his mind, and continues: “AD Barnes, I figured it wouldn't hurt to know the kind of work she might have the unit doing.”
The blonde's expression remains terrifyingly neutral, “And what work would that be?”
“Well…” he hesitates for a moment before sighing, rolling the chair slightly to the side, and motioning for JJ to step closer to the screens as he starts opening tabs. “PR cases, mostly. Look,” He opens two articles where Linda Barnes’ name shows up, pointedly highlighting the victimology. “Missing college students of the white, girl-next-door variety; a series of home-invasions in a high-end neighborhood,” he flags down another one, “this one's got her heading the search efforts for a congressman's spouse. Her career's all about looking good, not being the most helpful. I mean-” he backtracks, realizing that sounded worse than he meant to, “not that these didn't need solving, but- she's not gonna go for something that doesn't unite the public, and… well, most of the public couldn't care less for marginalized people.”
He notices her lips pursed slightly in distaste and feels a little vindicated on being right about this team being composed of genuinely good people.
“Look into it anyway,” JJ orders, to his surprise. “I'm not curating my selection to her preferences. If a case gets shot down, it's going to be by her, and not because I didn't think we should help.”
Stiles can't help but grin, “Yes ma'am.”