18

It was just after her Forensic Psychology lecture when Dr. Ellis caught up to her.

"MJ," he called as she moved to the exit, backpack slung over one shoulder. "Hold up."

She stopped, turning back with that usual unreadable look in her eyes.

He waved her over, lowering his voice as a few students passed. "Got a minute?"

She nodded once, adjusting her bag as they stepped to the side.

"I've been watching your work this semester," he began, glancing at the notes in his hand, "and... well, it's sharp. Thoughtful. You think like someone already in the field."

MJ didn't say anything at first. Compliments always made her uneasy.

Dr. Ellis smiled like he picked up on that. "Look, I'm heading a pilot internship program — small group of students, real field application. We're teaming up with a task force up in Philadelphia. Cold case review that just became very hot. Homicide. It's a one-day field trip, mostly observation and behavioral analysis support, but they're looking at potential suspects and want fresh eyes. I want you on that list."

MJ blinked slowly. "Philadelphia?"

He nodded. "You'd miss a Friday of class, but everything else is covered. School van, per diem, the works. You wouldn't just be watching — you'd be in the room. You up for it?"

She hesitated, just a breath, eyes scanning the floor like she was checking in with herself. Something in her shifted—subtly. Almost like an old part of her had been waiting to hear something like this.

"I'll do it," she said finally.

Dr. Ellis grinned. "Knew you would."

She gave a nod and turned to go, but just as she reached the door, he added, "Oh — MJ?"

She glanced back.

"Trust yourself while you're there. You've got the instincts."

She didn't smile, but something flickered behind her eyes.

And for the rest of the day, even as she went back to the library and dove into her usual routine, her thoughts kept drifting to Philadelphia. To the case. To what it would feel like to be part of it — even for one day.

_

MJ folded her jeans with mechanical precision, sliding them into the bottom of her backpack. Just one pair — she wouldn't need much. The trip was only overnight. Still, she packed a spare T-shirt, a hoodie, her toothbrush, and the same small black notebook she carried everywhere. A pen clipped to the front.

She hesitated over her boots — sturdy and scuffed — before setting them beside the bag.

It didn't feel like a field trip. It felt like something else. Like stepping into a shadow of the future she always imagined but never let herself chase out loud.

She threw in an extra phone charger, zipped up the bag, and slung it over her shoulder. Her dorm felt too quiet. She stood there for a minute, just listening to the stillness, then headed out.

_

The sun hadn't fully risen when MJ stepped onto the cracked sidewalk outside the student center, her backpack slung low on her shoulder and her black hoodie pulled over her head. A small group had already gathered near the white campus van — yawning, chattering, sipping gas station coffee. MJ said nothing at first, hanging near the edge.

Dr. Ellis spotted her and waved her over.

"Morning, MJ," he greeted, passing her a slim manila folder. "Glad you made it — I'll introduce you in a sec."

MJ gave a quiet nod and stepped back, eyes scanning the group as Dr. Ellis shifted his attention. She didn't need the introductions.

She already knew.

The one with the military-straight posture and buzzed haircut? Xavier, likely ROTC — athletic build, high-alert shoulders, but the way he kept adjusting his cuffs gave away his nerves. Smart, precise, needs control to feel comfortable.

Next to him, a girl with bitten nails, a hoodie tied tightly around her waist, and a stack of color-coded notes in her lap. Grace. Academic. Anxious over-achiever. Hyper-verbal. She'd be the one to double-check every detail, probably already memorized their itinerary.

Luis, leaning against the van with his hands in his jacket pockets, looked relaxed — maybe too relaxed. MJ clocked the way he scanned everyone as they arrived. Flirt, maybe. Or just observant. Probably both. One of those people who never stopped talking, but watched everything at the same time.

Then there was Mina — long dark hair, sunglasses on despite the early hour. Confident gait, minimal luggage, and a well-worn FBI sweatshirt. MJ could already hear her voice: direct, maybe blunt. No-nonsense. The type who'd try to take charge whether she was in charge or not.

And finally, Elliot — tall, quiet, and the only one besides MJ not trying to blend in or stand out. His notebook was already open, scribbled with dense shorthand notes. He didn't look up much. Introvert. Sharp mind. Might talk once an hour — but when he did, it would matter.

MJ kept to herself as the others settled into the van, but she took a seat where she could watch them all without turning her head. Old habits. She didn't speak, but her brain didn't stop.

It wasn't about judging. It was about reading the room.

And this room?

It had too many voices and not enough instincts.

She'd keep to the shadows — unless something went wrong.

And if it did, she'd see it coming first.