" The ultimate choice for a man, in as much as he is given to transcend himself, is to create or destroy, to love or to hate. "

— Erich Fromm

➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴

17.2 ; WHAT YOU DO AFTER.

THE CALL CAME INTO the station later that night. Despite their best efforts, Lisa Blakely of 1458 Grinichfield Avenue was now the unsub's newest victim. 

Caroline stared at the small, one-story home that sat smack dab in the middle of a quiet suburban neighborhood. Gathering behind the yellow caution tape blocking off the property were the neighbors, the men still dressed in their robes and the women with their hair in curlers. They whispered to each other as the paramedics carried Ms. Blakely out of her front door on a stretcher.

Her left arm laid across her stomach, her hand gripping a fistful of her nightgown. She didn't look around as she was wheeled to the ambulance in the driveway, still flashing it's blue and red lights. She had fixed her gaze straight ahead, her mouth set in a thin, pursed line. She couldn't blame her. It was bad enough to be violated, but to be ogled at right after? It was no wonder why she hadn't spoken more than five words since the police arrived.

Following closely behind Ms. Blakely was Detective Callahan. Once she spotted Caroline and part of her team standing in the yard, she made a b-line straight to them.

"There was no forced entry," she said immediately once she approached them. "We're still not sure how he got in."

Derek frowned as his eyes scanned over the house in front of him. "M.O.'s the same?"

The detective shook her head. "No."

"I'm going to take a look inside," Hotch informed them as he started to trek across the front yard. Derek echoed his plans before following him, leaving her and the detective standing in the yard.

"What the hell are your men doing?"

Caroline whipped her head and saw Elle walking—no, marching—up to them. Her face was twisted and red. She could almost see the steam coming out of her ears.

Detective Callahan blinked, clearly taken aback by Elle's outburst. "Excuse me?"

"Well, you can have men outside the door, but still have a woman get raped inside!"

"Elle," Caroline said slowly, using her name as a warning.

"They knocked," Detective Callahan said. "There was no answer, there was no legal cause to enter."

She scoffed. "So they just walked away?"

Caroline took a small step forward, placing herself directly between Elle and the detective. She had even angled herself to be directly in her friend's line of sight, but she looked over her, ignoring her presence. 

C'mon, walk away, Elle.

"No, they left messages that it was urgent she contact the police ."

"Which must be on the machine right after that creep left a message saying he was going to rape her!"

"They did everything in their power," Detective Callahan called out as Elle began to head towards the house. At this point, Caroline was all but forcibly shoving her inside.

Over her shoulder, Elle snapped, "You just keep telling yourself that."

"Elle." Caroline chose her words carefully, saying them slowly. "House. Now."

Without a word, the brunette turned on her heels and stalked up to the house where she disappeared inside. She hadn't even given her a second glance.

Caroline was so taken aback that she had forgotten that Detective Callahan was still behind her. She turned to her, opening her mouth to say something, but couldn't find the words. What was she supposed to say? Sorry about that, she's used to be much calmer?

Before she could think of anything to say, a couple of her officers pulled her away to file their reports. That left her standing alone in the yard, confused and worried.

Whoever that was that had yelled at Detective Callahan, it wasn't Elle. She looked and talked like Elle, but she wasn't the woman Caroline knew. She was volatile and brutal. Unforgiving.

She tried her best to shake the thought off. The case was just hitting close to home. She could understand that. Elle said she was fine and she had to trust her. If something was wrong, she would say something. 

She wouldn't jeopardize the case. She just wouldn't.

Caroline spotted one of the paramedics standing in the driveway. She went over to him, trying to find a distraction.

"Excuse me," she said as she approached. She nodded her head towards the ambulance. "How bad were her injuries?"

The paramedic, a young one by the looks of it, glanced over at the ambulance before focusing back on her. "She's lucky. They're relatively minor."

Caroline sighed. Lucky.

"Do me a favor," she said as she started to walk away. "Don't tell her she's lucky."

➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴

After the rape of Ms. Blakely, Gideon and Hotch had come up with a plan. Since the latest victim was the last in this area, they had a chance to lose him. Caroline had seen the stack of forms. He had the entire Great Lakes region to chose from. When the victim pool ran dry, all he had to do is head to another city.

She knew what was at stake and knew they had to act fast. But when Gideon suggested Elle going undercover to be a potential victim, her heart had dropped to her feet. She had just come back to the team a few weeks ago. She didn't know if Elle was ready to be served on a silver platter.

Caroline sat quietly in her seat, her hands folded in her lap. One of the techs was working on taping a mic underneath Elle's red blouse. She stood still, her arms rigid at her side. She tried to avoid looking at the long 4-inch scar in the center of her friend's chest.

"What's my story?" Elle asked, her voice calm.

"You're a legal secretary, thirty-six, divorced," Gideon answered. "Back there, the questionnaire's two days old. So in the unsub's mind, he's already behind his normal schedule."

Derek pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning against. "This guy's itching for another victim, though. Once he sees that form, he's gonna want to stake you out."

"You'll need to let him see you," Hotch told her as she put her FBI badge in the black purse on the table. "He wants to know when you leave, when you come home, when you have friends over. He breaks into these houses when the women are away. So, he needs to see you leave."

Caroline shifted in her seat to face Elle. "All we need to do is get him to breach the door. Once we charge him with breaking and entering, we can get DNA and his ass is ours."

She nodded slowly as she buttoned up her blouse. Across the table, Hotch slid Elle's gun back into her holstered before handing it to her. Her fingers tightened around it and she held it close to her chest.

"Another thing," Gideon began, "don't go out with your gun on. It's too risky. If he sees it, we might lose him. Keep it someplace inside so you can get to it easily."

Almost reluctantly, Elle placed her gun inside her handbag. 

"Morgan and I are going to be right out front," Caroline told her. "Hotch and Gideon will be around the corner in the surveillance van."

Hotch nodded. "And, don't forget you're wired, so we'll be with you at all times."

Elle's shoulders seemed to loosen a little, but the rest of her body was still as stiff as a board. Derek noticed her posture and stretched out a fist to her. "You good?"

She nodded as she reached over and tapped her knuckled to his. "I'm good."

Caroline watched as Elle dropped her fist, swallowing. She stayed silent.

Despite herself, she couldn't help as her stomach twisted when her friend's eyes rested on the handbag in front of them.

➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴

"Why hasn't she left yet?"

Caroline glanced over at Morgan sitting in the driver's seat. His arm was casually resting on the windowsill, his focus on the house across the street.

She shrugged, trying to make it nonchalant. "Maybe she's busy."

"Busy? We haven't heard anything from the house all day."

She didn't answer him. Instead, she turned her focus back to the house, trying to see any moment from inside the dimly-light living room. 

As much as she hated to admit it, Morgan had a point. Elle had been eerily quiet since she arrived at the house earlier in the day. She hadn't left yet either, even though night had already fallen and the street was empty for except a few empty cars parked out in the street. 

Suddenly, a loud blast of music blared through her earpiece. Caroline let out a startled gasp as she yanked it out of her ear. She could still hear the rock music blasting except it was fainter.

Derek slapped his hand over his earpiece and grimaced. "What the hell is that?"

She shook her head, her mind going blank. With a sigh, she slid the earpiece back into her ear, the music pounding in her ear. Over the music, Hotch's voice echoed, "Morgan, call her."

Derek didn't hesitate as he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and flipped it open. He scrolled through his contacts, found Elle, and dialed her number. He held it up to his ear and waited. After a few moments, he shut his phone off and shook his head at her.

Caroline leaned back in her seat, the loud music starting to make her head began to throb. "What the hell is going on in there?"

Morgan opened his mouth to respond, but something caught his attention. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of light. Her eyes flashed to the rearview mirror and watched as a four-door grey car drove up the street. It drove right past them before slowly stopping on the curb a few yards in front of them them. It was directly across the house Elle was in.

Derek lifted the microphone attached to his shirt up to his mouth and said, "I think we have company."

Caroline opened the glove compartment and pulled out a pair of binoculars, focusing on the license plate. She could hear Morgan dialing his phone and then Garcia's cheery voice. "Talk to me, tiger."

"PG, run a plate number for me," she said over the speaker. "Peter-Mary-Six-Eight-Yellow-Three."

"William Lee of 1308 Pinehurst Avenue."

Pinehurst? That street was nowhere near here.

"Can you give us where he works?" Morgan asked.

"Feel my speed." Ten seconds hadn't passed before Garcia said, "He works for First Hand Media."

"Thanks, Garcia," Morgan said before he hung up.

Caroline raised her wrist to her mouth and said into the microphone, "It's him."

Gotcha, bitch.

Suddenly, the loud music cut stopped. Moments later, the front door opened and Elle stepped outside. Through the earpiece, Hotch said, "Alpha, Bravo, she's on the move."

Derek nodded. "Copy that. We see her."

Neither of them said a word as the watched Elle lock the front door back before turning and heading towards her car parked in the driveway. When she reached her car, however, that's when Caroline saw the bulge on her back.

Shit.

"Why does she have her gun on?" She demanded, more to herself than anyone else.

Everything that happened next happened fast. Elle reached her car and froze. She looked over onto the street and focused on the car directly across from the house.  She started walking towards the street.

"No, no, no," Derek hissed. "We have no reason to bring him in!"

When Elle drew her gun out of her holster tucked under her shirt, Hotch's voice boomed over the earpiece. 

"Go, go, go! Everybody, go!"

Caroline and Morgan both bolted out of the car, sprinting over to Elle. They made it just in time to see her yank William Lee out of the driver's side and pin him face-down on the road with her heel. She had her gun focused on the back of his head.

Lee began to panic as police cars started to surround them. "But I was just—"

"Shut up!" Elle screamed.

"I—I was just stopping to look at m—my map."

Caroline walked over to Lee's car and peered in through the open driver's side. Resting on the passenger seat was an unfolded map. She pulled it out and looked over it. Various destinations had been circled in red, but none of them were this address. She handed it to Morgan as some officers cuffed Lee, who was now pressed against his car.

"See!" He cried out. "I was just looking at my map."

Caroline didn't even look at him. She was too busy looking at Elle, standing off to the side. Her gaze, however, was solely focused on Lee and the look on her face was downright murderous. Dangerous. A look that was far beyond something she had ever seen on her face before—and it scared her.

However, what scared her most was that she no longer recognized the woman in front of her.

➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴

"You got no reason to keep me here."

Hotch stepped away from the wall, his fingers laced behind his back. "We know you work at First Hand Media and you and access to information about all these women."

William Lee's head whipped towards Hotch, his eyes as wide as saucers. "But I didn't do anything wrong."

Gideon gave him a warm smile from across the table. "We know that. I apologize. We know how much you care about these women. You do care about them, don't you?"

A knock on the doorframe snapped Caroline out of her trance. She tore her eyes away from the interrogation and took a small step away from the two-way mirror to see Spencer standing in the doorway. 

"Oh." She huffed out a breath. "It's you."

"Of course it's me. Were you expecting someone else?"

"No, of course not. What did you find?"

He walked over and stood beside her in the mirror. "He's twenty-eight years old and has a high school diploma, but he's had twelve jobs in the past ten years."

"Homelife?"

"He lived with his mother until she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer six months ago."

She sighed as she rested her head against the wood framing around the mirror. "One last chance to make him mom proud, by starting a family."

Spencer nodded towards the interrogation room. "How are they playing it?"

"Deep empathy."

"Smart."

"Well, it better work," she muttered as she turned back her focus on the interrogation. "If they don't get him to confess, we have no reason to hold him."

"We know that dating those young girls was a mistake," Hotch said, his voice remorseful. "They were just too immature."

Gideon nodded, almost in agreement. "Older ones are—well, they're looking to start families. They're even willing to shell out a lot of money just to have kids."

Lee blinked a couple of times, his uncertainty plastered on his face like a mask. "Let's just say that that's true," he said slowly, "then whoever would have been with them would've been helping."

Gideon nodded, another warm smiling bloomed across his face. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to them.

Caroline swallowed back the biting words she wanted to yell through the mirror. Helping? He helped them? The terror he caused these women would never, ever, go away—not completely. Whenever they were home alone, in the dark, all they'd be able to think, to see, would be him violating them all over again.

And if one of the women did end up pregnant with his child, then having the baby would be a living, breathing reminder of the worst moment of her life. But that was Lee's goal— find women who wanted children so desperately that abortion was out of the equation. Women who, if they fell pregnant, would want to keep the baby despite how it had been conceived. Would love the baby.

Like Caroline had.

"Who's that?"

The sound of Spencer's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned and followed his gaze into the hall where a well-dressed man was asking directions from a uniformed officer. She cursed under her breath.

Spencer frowned. "What? Who is it?"

"The damn attorney," she hissed as she rested her palms against the wooden frame, rocking her weight forward. 

"Why don't you volunteer a DNA sample?" Gideon suggested, his voice kind and gentle. "If you were the kid, wouldn't you want to know who your father was?"

Lee's face lit up, and before he could respond, the door flung open and the man in the suit stepped in. Caroline slammed her hand against the wall before turning on her heels and leaving the room. 

She had just got into the hallway when Lee and his lawyer left the interrogation room with Hotch and Gideon right behind them. The rest of the precinct seemed to slow down a little, become quieter. Her eyes fixed on Lee's back and when he stepped out into the night, something inside of her cracked.

She hadn't even had time to take a breath before Elle was in her face.

Her face was red with rage. She was so close to her that she could see the small veins protruding from her forehead. At her sides, her knuckles went white from clutching them too hard, almost as if she was going to hit her.

"You're letting him walk?" Elle hissed at her.

She screwed her eyes shut. She had tolerated a lot lately, but her patience was wearing thin. "Not now, Elle."

"You don't know what he's done!"

That caught her off guard. "What?"

The look on Elle's face was downright terrifying. She couldn't comprehend what she was saying. She knew exactly what the unsub has done. Hell, she lived it.

She tried to shake it off. She told herself it was just Elle letting off steam and it wasn't her talking.

"I know what he's done," Caroline said in a low voice. The officers in the precinct were starting to stare. "We'll find another way."

"You don't get it!" She was practically snarling now. "Being raped and getting pregnant doesn't mean you know everything. You don't know everything, and you sure as hell don't know me, so quit acting like you do."

Caroline took a step back as if she had slapped her. She wished she had slapped her instead. It probably would've hurt a lot less if she had.

Derek, who had been watching in quiet shock, stepped in between the two. He pushed his hand flat on Elle's shoulder, making her take a step back. "Watch it, Elle."

She rolled her eyes as Hotch stepped forward.

His face was stone cold and his voice was even frostier. "The only reason he's walking is because you panicked."

She whirled on him, her eyes blown to the size of saucers. "I'm supposed to believe that you've got my back?"

"What are you saying to me?"

"The last time you sent me home, Hotch, you got me shot."

Before any other hurtful words could be exchanged, Gideon swooped in, grabbing Elle by her elbow. He pulled her into the closest room and slammed the door behind them. It wasn't moments later that Elle marched out of the room, brushing past the team. 

She didn't give them a second glance.

➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴

Caroline sat in her hotel room with her empty suitcase on the bed beside her. She stared at the small pile of clothes in front of her, unable to will herself to move. With the jet taking off at the crack of dawn, she needed to get packed and get some sleep if she didn't want to be half-dead tomorrow. 

She knew she probably wouldn't sleep tonight anyway. How could she? The man who had destroyed lives was free. Even if the local police kept a detail on him, it made her stomach churn with the thought of William Lee on the streets.

A soft knock at the door caused her to tear her gaze away from the small mess on the floor. She rubbed her eyes warily. "It's open."

Spencer stuck his head in. "Hey."

"Hey."

He opened the door a little wider, slipping inside, before shutting the door behind him. Almost automatically, his eyes slid to the unkempt pile of clothes at her feet. A small smile appeared on his face. 

"Trouble packing?"

She gave a half-hearted shrug. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"C'mon," he said as he plopped down beside her on the bed. He gently nudged her shoulder with his. "No witty comeback?"

She shook her head as she sank to the floor, dragging her suitcase with her. It landed beside her with a soft thunk. "Not tonight."

Spencer silently watched her neatly fold her shirts and set them inside her suitcase. The motion was calming. Fold, smooth, and pack. Fold, smooth, and pack.

"What Elle said tonight was out of line."

Caroline didn't answer. She didn't even pause in her packing.

"Not to mention untrue. I don't think there's anyone here that cares more for those women than you." 

"She wasn't wrong."

"What?"

She stopped mid-fold on her jeans. She turned around to face him, resting her bottom on her heels. "She wasn't wrong," she said slowly. "Going through what I've been through doesn't mean anything. Not one damn thing."

Spencer sat silently as she started packing again. This time, she didn't bother to fold her clothes. "Knowing what I know and feeling what I feel didn't do those women any good. William Lee is still out there and here I am—doing nothing."

"I disagree."

She slammed her hand down on the top of her suitcase. "You disagree?"

"Care, do you think being there for Cheryl didn't matter?" He shook his head. "I highly doubt she's talked to many people about what happened to her. But then you came along, someone who knows what she's been through, and tells her that it gets better. That mattered to her."

She reached over and slowly zipped up her suitcase. Once it was closed, she leaned against the side of the bed. She rested her head on the stiff mattress.

"The other night, when I went and talked to Elle, I told her she had won. Like surviving had been some kind of competition. Like getting shot was a prize." She scoffed. "The truth is, there's no winning or losing. There's just..." She sighed. "What you do after."

Spencer slowly sunk down beside her on the floor. "You were being her friend," he said gently. "You were doing what you thought was helpful."

She laughed darkly. "Some friend I am, huh?"

He bumped his shoulder against hers. "Well, I'm your friend, and I happen to think you're a pretty damn good one."

Before she could stop herself, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. It didn't last long, but it still felt nice to smile despite the tiredness she felt inside.

She glanced over at him and saw that he was looking back at her. She wanted to say something, but couldn't think of what to say. She felt the overwhelming urge to tell him how tired she was, how empty she felt. What she had admitted to Elle last night was true—she wished she had opened up more about what had happened to her. Talked to someone that didn't just know what happened, but someone who knew her. Listened to her.

Someone like Spencer, who was looking at her with concern and care instead of revulsion. Before she could say anything, though, he beat her to it.

"Are you okay?"

She didn't know why exactly, but she started to laugh. She knew it was grossly inappropriate, but she couldn't stop herself. All these emotions were bubbling up, all the emotions she had spent years repressing, and she didn't know how to handle them. Not all at once, at least.

Spencer just watched her, his brows pulled together. He didn't say a word. 

Then, her laughs began to turn into sobs. It happened slowly at first, then all at once. The change was fast that it caused her head to spin.

He pulled her into his chest and let her sob into his shoulder, her tears drenched the fabric of his t-shirt. Her breathing grew ragged as if she were running a marathon. The fire of shame and anger and disgust clashed inside her with the cool wind of sadness and loss and pain. He wrapped his arms around her, coiling them tightly as if he was trying to hold her together. In a way, she supposed he was.

She cried for herself, for Elle, and for all the women who were victims before them. She cried for the victims of William Lee, who shared a similar story to hers. She cried because she could.

Eventually, her sobs eased into soft breaths and her tears dried onto red, hot cheeks. Once the storm inside her calmed, she raised her head off his chest. She looked up at him but didn't pull away.

"Sorry," she muttered as she wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. "I—I don't know what came over me."

His hand reached for her face. He brushed away a tear with the pad of his thumb as he cupped her face.

"You don't have to apologize," he murmured as his thumb continued to soothingly rub circles on her cheek. "It's healthy to show emotion, you know?"

She took a deep breath, gently closing her eyes. "I know. I've been working on releasing emotion rather than bottling it in with my therapist." She chuckled quietly. "I didn't know I'd do that, though."

Spencer blinked. "Therapist? You go to therapy?"

She immediately felt heat rush to her cheeks. "Oh, right. I've been meaning to tell you. After Chris's wedding and—well, everything else—I realized maybe trying therapy again wouldn't be such a bad idea."

"Care, that's—wow. That's great. How long have you been going?"

"Few weeks. Right now, I do two sessions a week."

"And how's it going? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"It's. . .going." She shrugged a little. "It hasn't been easy—opening up to a stranger. But I'm. . .I'm working on it."

He smiled at her. "I'm so proud of you."

At that moment, she realized that Spencer was the first person she told about therapy. She hadn't told Hotch or Haley or her brother. She wasn't even sure if she wanted them to know. She didn't want to make a big deal of it. But with Spencer—

She wanted him to know. All of it. Everything he'd let her tell him.

She'd just have to take it one day at a time. But for now, tonight, telling him that she was working on herself was enough.

And maybe, one day, she'd get to the point where she could explore other avenues in her life without her past haunting her. Explore things with him. 

That was the future. Right now, she just didn't want to be alone.

"Can you. . .stay a little longer?"

Spencer leaned forward and pressed his lips against her forehead. "I'll stay as long as you want me to."

She rested her head on his shoulder. She wanted him to stay forever.

That night, they fell asleep curled tightly in each other's arms.

➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴

The phone call woke her up at two in the morning. She had to detangle herself from Spencer's arms, who was still fast asleep. How he, a known light sleeper, managed to sleep through the phone ringing was beyond her.

With bleary eyes and a voice heavy with sleep, she answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Caroline." Hotch's voice sounded strange over the phone. "Are you awake?"

She rolled out of bed, careful not to make any sudden movements that wouldn't disturb Spencer. She didn't like how tight and rigid Hotch's voice was. "I am now. What's going on?"

"It's Elle."

Those two words caused her heart to sink into her stomach. Without a second thought, Caroline quickly slipped on her shoes and shrugged on her coat. She hesitated only to write a quick note on the hotel stationery for Spencer in case he woke up before she got back before leaving the hotel.

She had driven thirty minutes to a run-down motel. In the parking lot, she saw the police cars flashing red and blue light. Beside them was a black SUV with federal plates. 

When she got out of the car, she couldn't believe what she saw.

Lying face-down on the pavement was William Lee. A gun was resting in his outstretched hand.

Her blood went cold. She was standing in her wrinkled old clothes from the day before staring at their dead unsub.

Elle.

She frantically searched through the crowd for a familiar face. However, when she spotted Hotch and Gideon, her chest tightened. Their faces were grim as they stared at the police scene in front of them. They looked like statues by how rigid they were standing.

"Hotch," she said as she walked up to them. "What's going on? Is Elle okay?"

Hotch glanced over at her, his grimace only deepening. "Caroline, Elle's fine."

She let out a breath she hadn't know she had been holding. She glanced over at Gideon, who hadn't seemed to register her presence yet. She frowned at the empty expression on his face and then followed his gaze.

He was staring across the parking lot at the police cars congregating in the back of the dimly lit parking lot. Standing between two officers was Elle.

As if she felt Caroline staring, Elle turned her head and their eyes met. 

When she was younger, her mother had told her once to always look into someone's eyes to see what they're feeling. She thought that anyone could control their body language. But the eyes? The eyes can't hide emotion.

Her mother had been right because she could see it. She saw the guilt in Elle's eyes and Caroline knew.

"No," she whispered.

Detective Callahan approached the three of them, her expression a little bit brighter than usual. Why wouldn't she be happy? The man who was terrorizing the women in her city was now dead.

"I can't let you speak to her until she's processed. It's procedure," the detective said as a form of greeting.

"What happened?" Hotch asked.  As if he doesn't already know.

"She came to stake his place out, he saw her, he had a gun." Detective Callahan smiled. "Don't worry. It's cut and dry. Self-defense. She'll have her badge back by tomorrow."

Caroline couldn't speak. Her throat was bone-dry. She heard Hotch thank the detective but everything after that was a blur. All she could focus on was Elle.

She watched as a police officer escorted her to the back seat of a squad car. She opened the door and paused. She glanced back at Caroline and their eyes met again.

Her stomach rolled as Elle mouthed, "I'm sorry."

Caroline wasn't exactly sure what she meant. Was she sorry for what she had said earlier or sorry that she had killed a man? Maybe it was both. Or neither. She wasn't sure anymore.

Once Elle was inside the squad car, it drove off and disappeared into the night. She didn't look at Gideon or Hotch. She wouldn't look at them. 

She knew why she was called here.

They had wanted to see if their suspicions were true. They had their answer.

Elle killed William Lee. Maybe it was for the right motives or maybe it wasn't. It wasn't Caroline's place to determine that. All that she knew was that the colleague and friend she once knew didn't exist anymore.

Feeling hollow inside, Caroline turned away from the crime scene. She could no longer look at the body on the pavement nor the officers on scene. 

Without a word, she walked away and didn't look back.

➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴

addy is alive. 

at this point, if randomly coming back from the dead isn't my aesthetic then i don't know wat is :)

also, thank you so so much for 200K. i cri thinking about how much i love you guys sometimes. the fact you're still putting up with my trash is astounding. 

 thanks for coming 2 my ted talk :)