" When a good man is hurt, all who would be called good must suffer with him. "

— Euripides

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5.1 ; BROKEN MIRROR. 

TYPICALLY, CAROLINE DIDN'T PRY. She liked to mind her own business and let people have their secrets. This was mainly because that's what she expected to have at work—privacy. The BAU had a silent agreement to never profile another member of the team unless absolutely necessary. They dig deep into the minds of some of the most ruthless and despicable human beings on this planet, and they didn't need to do that to each other. Their business was their business.

But, today, when Morgan and Reid strode by her in the hall at Quantico, talking about Spencer's recent date with JJ, she couldn't help herself. She had almost spilled her coffee all over her white blouse as she lunged forward, immediately getting in step with the boys in order to listen to their conversation.

"Good morning, Lucas," Morgan said to her as she tripped over her flats (she had decided to be sensible with her footwear today) with a large grin on his face, looking evidently satisfied.

She rolled her eyes, steadying herself. "And to you too, Morgan."

Reid, who towered over her, gave her a small smile, which was about as much greeting as she'd get. There was a slight blush in his cheeks, like he was flustered or embarrassed.

Had that been there before, when Derek mentioned JJ? Had their date gone that well?

"So, you never did tell me what happened with you and JJ at the Redskins game," Derek nudged Spencer in the side with his elbow playfully, resuming their earlier conversation. Caroline started to chew on her lip, anxiously waiting for his answer.

Reid shook his head, smirking. "Top secret."

She stared up at her friend, glowering. That was all he had to say for himself? "Top secret"? Seriously? Was this a joke to him?

The whole time he had been on his date, Caroline hadn't been able to sleep. She tried everything from warm milk, sleeping tablets and even the fancy noise machine Haley had gotten her for her insomnia at her apartment that made her bedroom sound like she was at the ocean, the soft waves crashing onto the sandy shores. Nothing had been able to stop her mind.

Endless possibilities raced through her head, drowning out everything around her. She pictured them sitting together, laughing. Holding hands. Acting as a couple. And later on in the night, if Spencer had walked her to her door like the gentleman he was, he might have even kissed JJ like he had kissed Caroline six months ago—softly, sweetly. A caressing rain and a gentle breeze.

She couldn't shake the thought. She couldn't even look at JJ without feeling an enormous amount of jealousy and guilt. Caroline even had to turn down their weekly breakfast date because she couldn't stand it. She knew that she wouldn't be able to listen to JJ gush about her date without getting sick to her stomach.

In fact, she felt the twisting pull in her stomach and a wave of nausea came over her. She swayed a little, stopping in her tracks. She pressed her hand against the wall, balancing herself.

Reid and Morgan both paused in the middle of the hallway to check on the blonde girl when they noticed she was no longer following. Spencer took a step towards her, examining her pale face, concerned.

"Care?" He said, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

She straightened up immediately, shrugging her arm away from his hand. She took a step back and held up her hands in front of her, her palms facing him, as if she were trying to ward him away.

She just couldn't have him touching her right now. It hurt too much to know that he was right there—standing right in front of her—and she had lost him. Her heart ached so much she could barely take it.

"I'm fine," Caroline murmured, slowly walking away from Derek and Spencer. They both watched her back away into the bull pen with concerned, decisive eyes. "I just remember I have to...uh, go...do something important. I'll catch up with you guys later."

The moment Caroline stepped through the glass doors into the BAU, she let out a relieved sigh.

She couldn't keep dodging Spencer like this. They worked together, for Christ's sake. Both of them had a very important job to do, and one wrong step or one wrong move could jeopardize someone's life. She wouldn't let that happen.

She decided whatever happened between Reid and JJ stays between them. It was none of Caroline's business and she would just have to let it—whatever it was that she felt— go.

No matter how much it killed her.

As Caroline stood in the doorway gripping her cup of coffee, spaced out in thought, Elle approached her with a file on hand. She paused for a moment, raising a suspicious eye at blonde's zoned-out expression. The dark-haired woman reached out and waved a hand in front of Caroline's face, snapping her out of her reverie.

"Earth to Caroline," Elle chuckled as her eyes focused in on the dark-haired, professionally dressed woman.

"Hey, sorry," she said as she rubbed her head, shaking out of her daze. "What's up?"

Elle held up the file. "The Davenport case. The files are in the conference room."

"Oh, right. The Davenport case. Does Hotch know?"

"I dunno," Elle shrugged. "Do you mind to go and check?" Caroline shook her head. She had been in his office on numerous occasions—most of them being to hide from Gideon when he wanted her reports. "Perfect. Thanks, Care."

"No problem," she said as Elle brushed by her.

The Davenport case, Caroline mused as she headed to Hotch's office. They had gotten the call from JJ this morning. New Haven's local District Attorney Evan Davenport's daughter, Patricia Davenport, had been kidnapped last night. After a long night of partying with her boyfriend, she never returned home. Concerned, her father called the police and what they found was Patricia's car with her boyfriend in the driver's side with a bullet in his brain. Patricia Davenport was nowhere to be seen. The FBI Connecticut field office was requesting the BAU's assistance in New Haven as soon as possible.

When she reached Hotch's office, she paused in the open doorway. Hotch was on the phone.

"So it sounds like bedrest isn't turning out to be very restful," he said as Caroline rapped her knuckles against the door. He turned his head and saw her in the doorway. He held up a finger and mouthed, "One minute" before returning to his phone call. He paused to listen to the person speaking on the other end.

Caroline crossed her arms, waiting patiently as Hotch chuckled. "Honey, just try to relax and get a little rest, ok?" Another pause. "Yes, I'll tell Caroline you said hello. I love you too. Bye."

Hotch hung up and slipped his cellphone into the pocket of his black suit jacket before facing her.

"Everything alright?" She asked her boss, concerned. Since last week, Haley had been put on bedrest until her due date and it was something Mrs. Hotchner wasn't taking well. The last visit she made, Haley was so bored with pent-up energy that she even wanted to know what Caroline had done while she was at work—something she never does due to the fact she can't stand the details of her job.

"Yeah. The doctor's are worried about Haley's blood sugar levels," replied Hotch, sighing. "They're worried about pre-eclampsia, and I'm worried she's not gonna last 6 weeks in bed."

"She wants out of the hospital," she told him. "She also said it was my job to convince you to let her go home."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Of course she did. Well, you can tell her she's staying st the hospital until the doctor thinks it's safe for her and the baby."

"I'll just tell her you're thinking about it."

He gave another short shake of his head, almost looking exasperated. But honestly, what did he expect? Caroline and Haley had been ganging up on him since day one.

"So, was there something you needed?" Hotch asked after a moment of silence.

"Oh, right!" She gestured towards the conference room across the bullpen with a wave of her hand. "The Davenport files are here."

Hotch's face immediately became more serious and focused. He was always ready to solve a case. He gave her a hard, almost robotic, nod as he brushed by her in the doorway, briskly heading toward the conference room with Caroline on his heels.

When they entered the large room, Gideon, Elle, Derek, and Reid all turned their heads from the TV screen, focused and expectant. Caroline's eyes danced over the screen, examining the evidence displayed.

They had pulled up a copy of the kidnapped ransom note. The messy, scrawled out handwriting almost seemed to jump out the page, like the words were trying to escape off the old, stained paper.

Reid, once he knew everyone was in the room, began to read the letter aloud.

"'You will follow instructions carefully. You will do this to ensure the safety of your daughter. You will wait for the call. You will answer the call at 8 P.M. You will write down the instructions and follow them to the letter.'"

"That gives us less than 9 hours to get to Connecticut, work up victimology on Trish Davenport, and prepare her father for the ransom drop," Hotch said after Reid finished.

Gideon's brows furrowed and he leaned towards the screen, squinting his eyes at the letter. "How do we know the letter's real?"

"The handwriting is a match for Trish's," replied Hotch. He pointed to a couple of dark stains on the corner of the paper. "And they also found saline on the letter."

"Her tears," Caroline whispered, her stomach churning. The unsub forced Trish Davenport to write her own ransom letter.

"He never says 'I'," Morgan noticed, leaving back in his chair. "He doesn't say, 'I will call'. He says, 'You will answer the call'. He's distancing himself from the kidnapping." He shook his head, almost in disbelief. "If he said 'I', he'd be taking responsibility for it."

"There's also another missing element," Hotch observed.

"No mention of police involvement," Caroline said, her voice thoughtful. Everyone turned back to look at the blonde agent. "Ransom notes almost always forbid police involvement."

"So is he expecting law enforcement to get involved?" Hotch sounded confused, almost as if he couldn't understand why a kidnapper wanted police involvement.

Gideon slowly rose from his seat. "Well, if he's expecting us, let's not disappoint him."

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"Everyone familiar with Mr. Davenport?" Hotch asked everyone, checking to make sure the BAU was prepared. They hadn't had time to brief themselves on the case, Gideon and Hotch had mainstreamed all of them to the jet for takeoff. Caroline could feel her stomach press against her spine from sheer force as the jet zoomed through the sky.

Reid, who was sitting beside her, sat up and peeked his head over his chair back at Hotch. "Evan Davenport, U.S. Attorney, executive assistant, southern district, Connecticut. Widower, assigned U.S. Marshals 3 times in the past 10 years due to death threats."

"Is the protective detail still current?" Derek asked as he mulled over the case file.

Hotch nodded, "Around the clock but Trish declined protection when she turned 18."

Elle sighed and shook her head. "That's too bad for the boyfriend."

"But why kill him?" Reid asked.

"Well, if I'm going to kidnap someone, I know I'm going to have to kill whoever's with them." Derek paused, then frowned down at the file he was flipping through. "It says here she's got a sister?"

Caroline began to search through the stack of files in front of her. "Yeah, Cheryl."

"Any problems? Were they close?"

She smiled a little when she found what she was searching for. She pulled out the glossy photo carefully and rotated in her chair, presenting it to Derek.

He examined the photo and his eyes widened. The photo was of Cheryl and Trish, both in their high school cheerleading uniforms, both had their blonde hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. The only problem was he couldn't tell which sister was Trish or which one was Cheryl.

"They are very close," Caroline stated, tapping the picture gently. "They're identical twins."

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Caroline stared at the girl lying in the dirt road, wondering if she was ever going to stand up. Some small part of her began to think the young woman was dead by how still she was laying, never moving or saying a word. She had been tempted several times to walk over to the girl, but she remained rooted in her spot.

Silently, Derek and she had been waiting, watching, Cheryl Davenport lie in the middle of the crime scene where her twin sister was kidnapped. Her straight-as-a-stick platinum blonde hair was fanned out around her in the dirt road, collecting clumps of fine, powdery dust and various dirt particles strewn about. She was wearing a brown tweed jacket with a grey skirt, paired with long leather black boots with a two-inch heel. Very scholarly. Caroline recalled reading in the file that Cheryl was majoring physics at school, and was quite talented at that. A smart girl like that had her own way of processing things.

Finally, after getting tired of watching, Derek leaned over to the two frowning bodyguards Mr. Davenport had hired for his daughter.

"What is she doing?" He asked.

The male bodyguard sighed, exasperated, "Lying on the road."

"Yeah, I see that," Derek replied, his voice a bit sharper than before, "but why?"

The other bodyguard, the woman, puckered her lips and shrugged her shoulders. "She said she's trying to get a feel to what happened to her sister."

Derek frowned, his face plastered in skepticism. "By laying on the ground?"

"That girl spent years perfecting ways to ditch her bodyguards," the woman replied, crossing her arms out in front of her. "We're just happy she's in our line of sight."

Derek glanced over at Caroline and gave her a look of disbelief. She held her hands up in resignation—she had no clue what to do in a situation like this.

He sighed and started moving closer towards Cheryl with Caroline trailing close behind. The rocks and gravel crunched underneath their weight as they approached the girl lying in the road.

"Cheryl Davenport?" Morgan asked her, his voice calm and professional.

"Shh!" The girl held up a finger, but didn't look up at the federal agents. "Just a minute, please."

Derek rolled his eyes and as if she could sense it, Cheryl sighed, "And no, I'm not crazy. I'm laying here for a reason."

After a moment, the blonde girl sat up slowly with a puzzled look plastered on her face. She glanced around at the ground, as if she were searching for something she had lost, before she stood up from the road, brushing off the dirt from her skirt.

"He dragged her from the car," Cheryl said, her voice strong and confident. She pointed to a spot about a foot from where she was standing," There. This is where Trish fell. Trisha is a fighter. She wouldn't have gone quietly, not even with a gun pointed at her head."

Caroline and Derek shared a look.

"She's right," she told her co-worker, presenting him the file in her hands. "There are nail marks on the car seat."

His eyes narrowed once he glanced over the file. He turned to Cheryl. "So you believe your sister's still alive?"

"I know she's still alive," replied Cheryl, still as confident as ever. Caroline examined her face and body language and could she truly believed it.

"You know the way twins know?" She asked the girl, raising an eyebrow. Oh, boy, if Reid were here to hear this, he'd have a field day. He had read extensively on telepathic communication in twins before and the concept absolutely fascinated him. If only he were here to—

She paused the moment she realized what she was doing. She chided herself, reminding herself to snap out of it. Reid was quite possibly in a relationship with JJ now and Caroline had a case to focus on. She couldn't get distracted.

"Not the 'I can feel my twin's pain' crap. If you stick her with a needle, I don't cry out," Cheryl said, shaking her head, "But if something is bothering her, if something is wrong, I can feel it. Even from 1,000 miles away at college."

Caroline nodded respectfully. Although she wasn't a twin herself, she did have a twin brother and sister, and those two were as thick as thieves. She could even remember a time where Caitlin had fallen from playing in the yard, causing her to scrap her knee. She had cried for the longest time as Caroline cleaned out her wound. Next thing she knew, Charlie was running down the porch steps from his room because he knew that "something wasn't right".

"You study physics, right?" She asked Cheryl as Derek stepped away to speak with her bodyguards. She could tell Derek didn't buy into the whole twin-telepathy theory.

"If you're asking why a science major would believe in something non-scientific, I don't," she explained to her, almost sounding defensive. "I just know what I feel. And my feeling is that my sister is still alive."

Caroline didn't say anything in response. Whether she believed Cheryl's feeling or not was irrelevant. The fact were this: Trish had been kidnapped and they had less than twelve hours to get her back or Cheryl might lose her best friend.

Whatever she told herself to let her cope with that worked just fine for Caroline.

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After investigating Trish's abduction scene, Derek and Caroline escorted Cheryl home to where the local FBI office was setting up the equipment to answer the ransom call. When they first arrived, Reid was explaining which buttons answer the call or mute it to Mr. Davenport, a tall middle-aged man with pepper black hair and the same dark eyes as his daughters. She had noticed the dark purple bags under his eyes and his weak, slouched posture and she realized he probably hasn't gotten any sleep since yesterday.

How could he? His daughter had been kidnapped.

As Caroline and Derek headed towards the kitchen to do some recon before the ransom call, they ran into Agent Shyer, one of the lead investigators from the Connecticut field office.

Caroline's should bumped into the tall, gangly man's shoulder and she tottered on her feet, taking a step back to keep her balance.

"I'm sorry!" She immediately apologized to the agent. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

The sandy blonde haired agent chuckled. "Hey, no harm, no foul. I'm just glad the BAU was able to make it here in such short notice."

"It's what we live for," Derek muttered sarcastically behind her and her elbow jammed into his side. There was a quiet groan of pain and Caroline gave the agent a kind smile.

"We just hope to find Trish soon," she told him.

"Well, with the BAU here, I think we're in good hands," the agent said before walking down the hallway and disappearing into the foyer.

Caroline stared after the agent and frowned. She couldn't explain it, but something felt off about him. He was too friendly. Then she shook her head. No, she was probably just overthinking again—another habit of the job.

"Why did you have to elbow me?" Derek hissed at her as they continued their way into the polished marble kitchen. "He didn't even hear me."

"He could've. And we do not need another crazy agent working against us because of you again."

"Hey!" Morgan protested, sounding offended. "That was one time and the guy deserved it. And nothing is as crazy as Cheryl and her twin telepathy."

"Oh? So you think she's a whack job because she claims she can feel her sister's anxiety?"

"I didn't say whack job, I said crazy. There's a difference."

At that moment, Reid walked into the room, overhearing their conversation. He came over and stood beside Caroline, already beginning to go into his detailed explanation.

"Actually there might be a physiological basis for twin telepathy," he explained to them with a small smile on his face. Derek groaned and rolled his eyes and Caroline only chuckled at Reid and his facts, "Reversed asymmetry monozygotic eggs split late, between 9 to 12 days. The DNA matches down to the very last stranded code, and there's sporadic documentation of shared physiological pain."

Derek frowned, "And you believe it?"

"No, I'm just saying it's possible. I don't know everything, despite the fact you think I do."

"I never said that! When have I ever said that?"

Both Caroline and Reid shared an exasperated look as Hotch entered the room, checking his watch. He watched on the conversation silently.

"Every day since I met you," Reid answered before Derek turned to Caroline to back him up.

"This morning at breakfast," she recounted thoughtfully as Hotch joined in and added, "Yesterday when he beat you at cards. And we have a minute until the ransom call."

Derek snorted indignantly as the profilers filed their way out of the kitchen. "Hasn't anyone here heard of sarcasm?"

In unison, Reid and Caroline muttered, "Mm-hm."

As the profilers entered the room, they gathered around the table with all the equipment set up. Mr. Davenport sat at the head of the table, staring blankly at the clock on the wall, counting down the seconds in his head until the clock struck 8. Gideon and Hotch sat on opposite sides of him, in case they needed to step in for the ransom call for some unforeseen reason. Reid had nestled himself in a small, red love seat, outfitted with the proper headphones to listen into the call. He had his laptop out in front of him on the coffee table he had pulled up, ready to take notes and record the ransom call. Elle and Derek stood in the corner, dripping with anticipation. Caroline had opted to stand by herself and stay on her feet, for she always thought better when she was on her toes.

Naturally, almost as if the girl was gravitated towards her, Cheryl came over and stood beside Caroline, completely silent. She could feel the blonde girl's anticipation and anxiety rolling off her like a fog and instinctually, Caroline patted Cheryl's shoulder gently. The girl turned and gave her a grateful look before she lowered her hand.

"Remember, keep your voice even and calm and agree with everything he says," Gideon spoke clearly to Mr. Davenport, his voice concise and detached. The sound of the antique clock chiming as it hit the hour-mark caused everyone to go deadly silent, waiting.

A second passed. Then two. Then three.

Four. Five. Six...

"He's late," Mr. Davenport said, his voice strangled and raspy form unshed tears.

"He'll call," Hotch assured him. "Just try to relax. This is his strategy. He wants you in edge."

Suddenly, the phone rang, the trill bell sound cut through the silence. Mr. Davenport shot up in his chair, his eyes wide. He turned to Gideon, almost as if he was looking for approval.

"Remember to repeat any important information he gives you to make sure you understand," Gideon reminded him, nodding towards the phone. "You try to keep him talking to reveal something about Trish or about himself."

Mr. Davenport nodded, his Adam's Apple bobbing as he swallowed. Slowly, he reached for the flashing green button in front of him and pressed it. His finger lingered as he pulled away, listening for any signs of life on the other side of the phone.

"This is Evan Davenport."

"Hello, Mr. Davenport."

Chills ran up Caroline's spine. The unsub's voice came through clearly on the phone. There wasn't an ounce of worry or doubt or fear. He just sounded...cold. Calculating.

Absolutely no emotion.

Tears appeared in the corner of Mr. Davenport's eyes. "Are you the man who has my daughter Patricia?"

"I have you daughter."

"Can I ask you—"

"You may ask me nothing," the unsub stated, almost scolding. "This is not an interrogatory. You will listen only to my instructions."

"Ok."

"But I will not give them to you."

Caroline's brow furrowed in confusion as Mr. Davenport frowned. "I don't understand."

There was a soft sigh from the phone. "I do not what to talk to you, Mr. Davenport," the unsub slowed down his talk condescendingly, almost as if he were talking to a three year old.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand—"

The unsub's breath caught, his voice rough. "I want to talk to her."

Almost as if they could sense it, everyone turned to look at Cheryl. She glanced over at Caroline with wide, frightened eyes and a paled face.

The unsub breathed into the phone, "I want to talk to Cheryl."

a/n: decided i am going to change up the posting schedule this week. it'll be triple post--a chapter today, one on Wednesday and another chapter on Friday.

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