[5.9]

"you know, that sweet little bracelet is quite a trophy"

"Please state your name and rank for the record."

"Florence Sab—"

"Speak up, please."

Florence looked up from her lap and towards the recording device on the table while clearing her throat. "Florence Sabin. Technical Analysts for the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia," she stated. She avoided Erin Strauss' gaze and instead stared at her cast, focusing on the doodle of Captain America that Jack had drawn on the previous day.

"And how long have you been a member of the BAU?"

"Almost a year and a half," she muttered.

"Have you worked under SSA Aaron Hotchner the entire time?"

Florence thought it was stupid to ask all those questions. They had everything on record, but she went along, not wanting to say the wrong thing and get Hotch in even more trouble. "No ma'am. I've been reporting to the Acting Unit Chief, Derek Morgan, for the last several weeks."

"Who took over the unit because Agent Hotchner's ability to lead the team had become compromised," Strauss stated as if it was a fact instead of an opinion.

"It was to my understanding that he voluntarily stepped down so that the team could continue to do their jobs unhindered and without constant scrutiny from above," Florence said, frowning. Clearly, Strauss was trying to fit this interview to her own agenda.

Straus pursed her lips at Florence's answer before continuing. "And how would you describe Agent Hotchner's behavior recently?"

"Incredibly determined."

"Determined?"

"Yes, determined. There's not much else in your life to think about when a serial killer goes after your wife and child. Agent Hotchner, and this entire team, was determined to track down Foyet and apprehend him."

"But he wasn't apprehended, was he?" Strauss asked rhetorically. "Do you think Agent Hotchner acted unreasonably?"

Florence leaned her elbows on the table and stared Strauss down. "I think that an innocent woman had already been killed, and had Agent Hotchner not stopped Foyet, then a little four-year-old boy was going to be next."

Strauss sighed. "Miss Sabin, you like working for the BAU, correct?"

"Yes," she answered immediately.

"Then I need you to understand that unless I can reconcile an adequate account of Agent Hotchner's investigation into George Foyet, everyone's position on this team is in jeopardy, including yours. And do you remember the agreement made when we hired you at the BAU?"

Florence paused and glared down at the table. "Under probation for three years, and am subject to immediate termination and would face prison time for my actions before being hired if I were to step out of line during the probationary period."

"Miss Sabin, you have proven to be an exemplary employee, and I am trying to help you to remain here. But in order to do that, I need you to give me an accurate account of your role in the Reaper investigation."

"Okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "Everything picked back up once Foyet mailed that stuff to Karl Arnold in prison. Penelope Garcia and I were already tracking the number of prescriptions that Foyet had to take, but then SSA Jennifer Jareau realized that we didn't have to track all of them."

|||

Florence was in her desk chair, spinning in slow circles while Garcia and Kevin ate their breakfast together. Kevin had brought in donuts and was thoughtful enough to bring two blueberry ones for Florence, who scarfed them down unhealthily fast.

"Are you sure?" Kevin asked Garcia, waiving the donut topped with bacon in front of her face. "Bacon doughnut. You'll never be the same."

Garcia made a disgusted face. "I can totally think of more palatable ways to up my adventure quotient, thank you."

Kevin chuckled before biting into it. "OMG. It gets better every time." Florence chuckled at his enthusiasm.

Suddenly, Hotch and JJ stormed into the room. "Kevin, you need to leave right now," Hotch ordered. Garcia immediately stood up and Florence gripped her desk to stop spinning, while Kevin gathered his things to leave. "The Foyet letters came from Fredericksburg, Virginia, and Westminster, Maryland."

"We can match the prescription drugs Foyet can't substitute with a geographic profile of the two cities," JJ added.

"Can't substitute?" Florence asked, not sure what they meant by that.

"We need you to track the drugs that can't be emulated with over-the-counter drugs and can only be dispensed by a pharmacist, and you need to do it quickly. Foyet doesn't stay in one place very long," Hotch instructed.

"Then Kevin needs to stay," Garcia insisted. Florence had no complaints, knowing a third person would make the search go even faster.

"What?" Kevin asked, turning away from the donuts.

"Sir, Kevin is an amazing analyst. We'll be able to work almost twice as fast with him running part of my system," Garcia said. Florence nodded to back her up before turning to her computer to get started.

"Fine," Hotch agreed. Garcia pointed at the screens for Kevin to work on. "Garcia, now long?"

"I'll know once I get into it."

"We're gonna work the geographic profile. Call me when you have something, and hurry."

Once Hotch and JJ left, Garcia started instructing them what to do. "Uh, ok... I am gonna start with the Ultram — No, you're gonna start with the Ultram and Naproxen. Florence and I will work on the rest."

They quickly made their way through the lengthy list of medications that Foyet was on. Several of them ended up being interchangeable with over-the-counter medicines. Each time they crossed a new one off the list, they let the other two in the room know.

"Naproxen is available in generic brands over the counter," Garcia stated.

"Naproxen's properties can be simulated by Aleve," Kevin added. "Ultram can be substituted."

"Ok, Oxycontin," Garcia said, moving to the next one.

"Jeez, he's on that, too?" Kevin asked, shocked.

"Yeah, and it's highly addictive and therefore regulated, so there's no substitute for it," Garcia said.

"No, actually," Florence said, shaking her head. "It's actually pretty easy to get it on the streets. Take it off the list."

Garcia didn't have time to ask her how she knew how to buy Oxycontin illegally. "You're right. Up next is Tapazole."

"What's that?" Kevin asked.

"Uh, it treats hyperthyroidism," she told him.

"Hey, what's wrong with this guy, anyway?" Kevin asked.

"He stabbed himself," Florence muttered. "Like, a lot."

"Stabbed himself?"

"Yeah, so his body would have permanent internal damage — Work, honey," Garcia snapped when she saw Kevin stopping to think it over. "And he'd need this prescription to regulate his heart rate, keep down the palpitations and the tremors. And there is no substitute for Tapazole."

"So if this is our missing link, how do we find him?" Kevin asked.

"Print out every person who's on this prescription within a sixty-miles of both cities," she ordered while getting up. "The team will do the rest. Florence, bring your laptop."

Florence grabbed her computer and she and Garcia ran to speak to the team in the briefing room. As soon as they got there, Florence sat down and opened her laptop back up.

"Ok, me, Ren, and the boy found a thyroid medication that has no substitute over the counter. You've gotta get it from a pharmacist. But a lot of people are on it," Garcia explained.

"Find the midpoint between the two cities and isolate names in a twenty-five-mile radius," Rossi stated.

"One hundred and fifty-three names," Florence narrowed down.

"Well, he's not gonna use his own name," Morgan said. "What kind of aliases should we be looking for?"

"He could have easily stolen someone's identity," Prentiss said.

"No, he's a narcissist in love with his own mythology. He'd use a name connected with the case," Hotch explained.

"A victim, maybe, a cop," Rossi added.

"Okay. Checking the Foyet files for a list of names," Florence muttered while typing. "Nothing."

"Wait a minute, guys. Foyet likes things to have meaning to him. The eye of providence, the addresses in blood he wrote on the bus that led us back to him. Maybe he's doing the same thing with the alias," Reid said while writing Foyet's name on the board.

"Like an anagram or something," Prentiss said.

Reid studied the name for several moments, trying to rearrange the letters, but he kept coming up empty.

"Reid, he named himself the Reaper," Hotch suggested.

He tried it with the Reaper, and a few moments later, he had sorted the letters. "Peter Rhea," he said, turning to the team.

Florence quickly scanned the list. "There's a Peter Rhea in Arlington," she said while pulling up the address.

"We found him," Rossi muttered.

The team called in a SWAT unit and they surrounded Foyet's apartment. They had to be sure that he was inside before storming in so that they wouldn't tip him off. But when they did rush the building, he was already gone. He had somehow found out they were coming and fled. He left behind his laptop, which was in the middle of wiping its hard drive. Garcia and Florence quickly gained remote access to try and undo it.

"This bitch is good," Florence muttered under her breath. "Gotta give him that."

'How good?" Reid asked.

"He wiped his hard drive," Garica told them. "Might have been in a hurry to leave, but whatever was on there, he did not want us to see it."

"Garcia, tell me that you and Florence are hacked in and that you can rebuild it," Morgan said.

"Watch me work, darling," she said. Then an alert popped on the screen. "Hello."

"What have you got?" Hotch asked.

"He had an internet alarm on the name Peter Rhea," Florence said, sighing. "It alerted him as soon as we ran a check on it."

"What else did he wipe?"Hotch asked.

They pulled photos from the drive and they flashed quickly across the screen.

"Garcia, wait a minute," Morgan said. "Freeze it right there."

Florence's stomach dropped at what they saw. They were surveillance photos of Kassmeyer, the Marshal in charge of Haley and Jack. Hotch immediately called him, but he never picked up.

"We're gonna need to deploy another swat unit," Morgan told them.

"That's gonna take another half hour," JJ said.

Hotch immediately left and the team followed after. Garcia and Florence shared worried looks, hoping that everyone stayed safe. While the team went to find Kassmeyer, they tried to pull more from Foyet's hard drive.

Unfortunately, Foyet had already been to Kassmeyer's house. He had tortured him for information on Haley and Jack, but he didn't give him anything. When Hotch rode with him in the ambulance, he learned that Foyet took his phone. He called Haley and told her that Kassmeyer and Hotch were both dead. He instructed her to get rid of her cellphone and meet him with Jack somewhere.

While the team notified the Marshal Service, Garcia and Florence worked on tracing Kassmeyer's phone, which was still turned on. It was odd that Foyet didn't turn it off, making Florence think he wanted to be found. When they got a hit, they called JJ, who told the rest of the team.

"Garcia's got a trace," she told them.

"He's bouncing between a few towers," she said.

"Where?" Hotch asked.

"Fairfax county."

"Send the coordinates to my phone," Hotch ordered.

"Done."

"He's still local?" JJ asked. "Why isn't he on his way to New Jersey?"

"Wait, that phone's on?" Prentiss asked.

"Yes."

"Hotch," she called, but he was already gone.

"He hung up," Florence muttered. Then she leaned forward and stared at the screen with wide eyes. "Guys, Hotch is calling him. He's calling Foyet."

Garcia set the call up so that everyone on the team could hear it.

"Agent Hotchner," Foyet greeted.

"If you touch her—"

"Be gentle, like I was with you?" he taunted. "What the hell took you so long? I was beginning to think this phone was dead or something. Why so quiet? You usually lash out when you're frustrated."

"I'm not frustrated. You're more predictable than you think," Hotch said with a level tone.

"Am I?"

"You didn't know where Haley was, so you made her come to you."

"You make me sound lazy."

"Just another way for you to show control," Hotch said.

"Oh, that's terrible."

"Your mother tried to protect you from your father, but she wasn't strong enough. And you hated her for that, didn't you?" Hotch stated, sticking to the profile. "You decided that all women were weak."

"Those are your words, not mine," Foyet said.

"What were you, nine when you killed them?"

"It was a car accident—"

"That you couldn't take credit for. That had to be hard for you. But poor George got another chance. The little orphan was saved by the wealthy, sterile Eastside couple, the Foyets. And the story should have ended there."

"I don't believe in fairy tales. Do you?"

"That's the thing, George. This isn't a fairy tale. You don't have to write this story. You don't have to do any of this. I know you're exhausted. Always looking over your shoulder. Always wondering when the other shoe is gonna drop. Haven't you gotten what you wanted? You've set yourself apart from anybody we've ever dealt with. You're not just a famous serial killer, you're the reaper. We're gonna study you and your methods for years and years."

"You know what I've been thinking?" Foyet asked, not commenting on Hotch's words. "Haley looks pretty good with dark hair. She's lost some weight. Must be all the stress you caused her. Where's the little man?"

Florence reached for Garcia's hand to hold, knowing that he was watching them.

"Oh. there he is. Does he like Captain America because of you?" Foyet asked him. "You know, that sweet little bracelet is quite a trophy. He could've picked better colors than gray though."

Florence tilted her head, confused by the comment. When she looked at the video call, she saw that the team had all glanced at her for a moment. She gave Garcia a questioning look, but before she could ask, Foyet's other phone rang with an incoming call.

"That's your wife. Hold, please," he said. "Mrs. Hotchner."

"I'm here," Haley said.

"Open the gate and I'll drive in," Foyet told her.

"Ok."

Once Haley hung up, Foyet went back to Hotch. "Aaron? I really gotta go."

As soon as he hung up, Garcia lost the trace they had going on him. Because it was a Marshal phone, it was designed to bounce around towers, so they had no way of knowing where he was at.

By following the profile, the team deduced that Foyet was at Hotch's old house where he used to live when he and Haley were still married. Everyone was on the way, including a tactical team. While they were driving, Foyet made a call.

"Foyet's calling Hotch," Garcia alerted them.

"Garcia, can you get us on?"

Garcia quickly linked them into the call just as he answered. "Foyet."

"Aaron? You're ok?" Haley said in a surprised tone.

"I'm fine."

"But... He said that..." Haley trailed off, realizing what was happening. "Oh, Aaron."

"He can hear us, right?" Hotch asked.

"Yes. I am so sorry," she said in a shaky tone, trying not to cry.

"Haley, show him no weakness," Hotch instructed. "No fear."

"I know. Sam told me all about him. Is he, uh—"

"No, Sam is fine," Hotch lied.

Foyet scoffed. "Aaron, Aaron, Aaron. Is that why your marriage broke up? Because you're a liar?"

"Don't listen to him, Haley," Hotch told her.

"I have Sam's service phone right here," Foyet said. "They sent out a mass text about his death. You can take a look if you want."

"He's trying to scare you."

"Did you even tell her what this was about? About the deal?" Foyet asked her.

"He's just trying to make you angry."

"Well, she should be. She's gonna—" Foyet paused to cover Jack's ears. "D-I-E Because of your inflated ego."

"Ignore him, Haley."

"I'm sure you don't want her to know this part either. You know, all he had to do was stop looking for me and you wouldn't be in this mess."

"Don't react."

"What is he talking about?" Haley asked Hotch.

"Tell Jack I need him working the case," Hotch said suddenly.

"What?" Haley asked.

"Tell Jack I need him working the case," Hotch said quickly.

Haley cleared his throat. "Jack. Did you hear that?"

Then they heard Jack's little voice over the phone. "Hi, Daddy."

"Hi, buddy," Hotch said, his voice cracking.

"Is George a bad guy?"

"Yes, he is," Hotch said. "Jack, I need you on this case with me. Do you understand? I need you to work the case with me."

"Ok, Daddy."

"Jack, hug your mom for me."

The line was silent for several moments. "Mommy hug me too tight."

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sad?" Jack asked her.

"Oh, I just love you so much."

"Mommy, I gotta go. I'm working the case."

"He's so cute," Foyet said as Jack left the room. "He's like a little junior g-man. I'll be right up, Jackie boy!" Florence started to cry, thinking that the worst would happen. The team was still a long way out.

"Is he gone?" Hotch asked.

"Yes," Haley said, sniffing.

"You're so strong, Haley. You're stronger than I ever was."

"You'll hurry, right?"

"I know you didn't sign on for this," Hotch told her.

"Neither did you."

"I'm sorry for everything," he said.

"Promise me that you will tell him how we met and how you used to make me laugh," she told him, crying.

"Haley—"

"He needs to know that you weren't always so serious, Aaron. I want him to believe in love because it is the most important thing. But you need to show him. Promise me," she said firmly.

"I promise," Hotch whispered.

They listened to Haley's labored breathing for a few more seconds and then there was a gunshot. Then another and another. Florence flinched, and Garcia pulled her closer and they both cried. Then the phone cut off.

|||

"That's it. I don - don't know what happened after that," Florence muttered, trying not to cry all over again. "But I know he would've killed Jack and Agent Hotchner had he not been stopped. And I know that this team did the absolute best they could, and no one else could've tracked him down so quickly."

"Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Sabin." Strauss studied her for a moment before looking back down at the file in her hand. Then she turned off the recorder.

"One more thing. This was found on George Foyet's body." She tossed Hotch's gray friendship bracelet on the table. Patches of the thread were stained with blood — she didn't want to think about whose. She hesitantly reached for it with her good hand.

"I knew that you made it, not Jack, as soon as I saw it. Just like the ones you've made for the rest of the team."

Florence remained quiet, just toying with the bracelet in her hands.

"Were you ever made aware that Foyet took this from Agent Hotchner the day he was attacked in his home?"

Florence cleared her throat and looked up at Strauss. "Uh, no. I was not aware."

"Then you're very lucky that he thought Hotchner's son made it or you very well could've ended up like her. It's fortunate that they guessed correctly."

Florence frowned when she referred to Haley. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. No, she hadn't spoken to anyone on the team about it yet, but she didn't like the way that Strauss was treating the situation.

"It wasn't a guess. I trust this team with my life, and when it was potentially in their hands, they made the correct call. I have no reason to question their decision."

"Very well," Strauss said, sighing as she closed the file. "You're free to go. You can send in Agent Rossi."

Florence wasted no time in pushing her chair back and getting up. Anderson was on the other side of the door when she opened it. He gave her a sympathetic smile when he saw her red eyes before letting her in the hall. The rest of the team, minus JJ and Garcia who had gone before her, were lined up in chairs on the wall.

She cleared her throat. "Uh, Ro-Ro, you're up next."

He nodded and stood up. "Are you going home? It's late."

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm gonna hang back and wait to see what they decide." She didn't want to find out if Hotch got fired over a phone call. She glanced at Hotch, who was sitting away from everyone. "Jack's playing in the briefing room, right? We can hang out."

She started to walk away but Hotch softly called her name. He had gotten up from his chair and nodded further down the hall. Once they got to a point where the rest of the team couldn't hear, he stopped.

"I think you're in the clear," Florence muttered, shrugging. "We're all going to back you up, so there's nothing to worry about."

"That's not—" Hotch sighed and closed his eyes. "I wanted to thank you for all the time you've been spending with Jack. He doesn't really... know what's going on."

"I don't mind. I mean, I've been there. Both my parents died when I was five, so I'll be there for whatever he needs," she said, looking at her feet. "And I've got Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island on my laptop for us to watch while waiting for you guys to finish up."

"I appreciate that."

She held out the blood-covered bracelet, which he took and began to rub his fingers over it. "I can make you a new one if you want."

"I'm quite practiced in the art of getting blood stains out of clothes," he muttered. Florence's heart clenched as he slipped it around his wrist for the first time. "This one matters too much."

"Well, then I'm glad you got it back."

Hotch sighed and shut his eyes again. "We should've told—"

"No," Florence said, cutting him off. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Strauss when she brought it up. I'm not gonna question why you didn't tell me. I trust you and I trust this team. Don't ever doubt that."

"And what if that trust is ever misplaced one day?"

Florence stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "It won't be."