𝐹𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑛.

The team hurriedly rushed into the conference room, exchanging looks of confusion when they found Melanie to be standing in front of the room.

"What's going on?" Derek inquired, voicing the thoughts of every team member.

Melanie inhaled sharply, using the remote control in her grasp to pull up the most recent image of Louise that the anonymous sender had given her. "This... This is my sister. Louise Beaumont. She's thirty–six years old as of this summer."

JJ's eyebrows pinched together, her lips parting as she gathered her thoughts. "I'm sorry, I'm not following."

"My sister has been missing since the winter of 1998, and before you say it — yes, I know very well what the statistics say. All signs point to the extreme likeliness of her death, and in the back of my mind, I always partially agreed with you." She turned away from the team, clicking a single time on the remote to reveal the surveillance image of the man that Emily had encountered in France. "Until this man showed up to the INTERPOL office that Emily had been transferred to, asking for an Amelie Beaumont and claiming that he and his wife were expecting her return."

"Amelie– Wait, who's Amelie Beaumont?" Penelope questioned, her eyes wide and full of worry.

Melanie cleared her throat, her gaze dropping to her feet before she found the power to look her team members in the eye. "I'm Amelie. Well... I was Amelie."

The unknowing individuals dropped their jaws in confusion, exchanging looks of similar emotions before staring back at Melanie — silently praying for an explanation. As much as she hated that this was her current reality, she knew that this horrid day would eventually come. Even that prior knowledge didn't make the entire ordeal any simpler for her.

"When Louise went missing, I was sixteen years old. The police were uncooperative and deemed my sister's disappearance as out of their control. She had a few marks on her criminal record, but she only did what needed to be done in order for us to survive. Stealing food from grocery stores, pickpocketing wealthy people on trains — things like that. But to them, she was a troubled woman who probably ran away with a boyfriend of sorts," Melanie began, her eyes darting to each team member as she spoke.

"I researched alone for years while I was still in Paris, eventually stumbling upon the supposed best crime fighters in the world — the Behavioral Analysis Unit based in Quantico, Virginia. I did all that I could from my home, sending in my sister's file that I put together all by myself. And as I understand now, they didn't have jurisdiction over a crime that took place in France and it was essentially out of their control," she continued to explain. "But that just wasn't good enough for me. I needed to know what happened to her. From that point on, I did everything in my power to make it to the BAU — hours of training, studying, and work to beef up my resume. One day, I finally made it. The workload that I've taken on and the relationships that I've developed with you guys slowed down my personal investigation for a while, and I selfishly believed it to be a good thing. I didn't feel stuck anymore, I felt free..."

"I stumbled upon Melanie's file and uncovered her previous identity. The moment I did, the man captured in the security footage stopped showing up and disappeared entirely without a single trace," Emily added. "It's too specific for all of this to be a coincidence, guys. We both agree that this man has something to do with the disappearance of Louise Beaumont."

Derek clicked on the tip of his pen, leaning forward in his seat. "You changed your name and moved to the states in hopes of finding your sister, all shocking information but I ultimately understand it. The problem that you faced a decade ago is still present, though. How do we know that this guy is even in the country and within our jurisdiction now?"

"Because an anonymous source mailed Melanie Louise's bracelet, the exact one that she has on her wrist right now," Spencer explained, pointing at the thin bracelet clasped tightly around Melanie's wrist. "He also managed to add recent images of Lousie to a case file located inside of the BAU — making this a federal crime which gives us the right to intervene when deemed necessary by the bureau."

Hotch crossed his arms over his chest, an angered scowl flashing between Reid, Lamont, and Prentiss. "All of you knew this vital information while failing to report it, is that correct?" he asked sternly.

Melanie bit on the skin of her inner cheek, fighting the overwhelming sensations that coursed throughout her body. "That is correct, sir, and I truly do apologize for that. I just... I didn't feel like I had enough evidence to bring the investigation up to the team. Not until today."

Hotch shook his head slightly, his gaze remaining locked on Melanie. "I understand your hesitance to share with the team and I appreciate the fact that you did, but this will only make creating a case for the bureau to approve much harder for us. We're essentially starting our investigation with an incredibly minimal amount of evidence to go on, and we'll need to gather more before I can present the case."

The team respectively nodded, sending a look of sympathy towards Melanie before turning to stare at Hotch who was beginning to hand out orders.

"Blake and Morgan will begin by heading down to the USPS location that the bracelet had been shipped from. It might be a dead end, but anything is worth trying," Hotch ordered. "JJ, you'll hold a press conference and get this man's image all over the news."

"Isn't—Isn't that what he wants?" JJ asked, rising slowly from her seat. "I mean, he evidently wants to get the attention of both Melanie and the BAU."

Hotch nodded. "The only way we'll ever get any new information out of him is if we make him believe that we need him in order to begin the investigation. It's all about the chase for him, he needs it in order to get satisfaction from his crimes. There's a very good chance that he'll slip up by getting too overconfident." JJ nodded and hurried out of the room.

"Garcia, you'll start a facial recognition search with our database rather than INTERPOL's. With the information that we hope to get from both the public and the post office, you might be able to narrow down the search that way as well," Hotch continued, his hand massaging his forehead to remedy his developing headache.

"Reid and Prentiss will get in contact with INTERPOL and find out if they've heard anything new from the unsub or if he's been spotted on any of their surveillance devices," he demanded, taking in his first deep breath within a lash few minutes.

"Yes, sir. I'll try to get in contact with my colleagues there," Emily replied while nodding.

A sigh of relief left Melanie's lips. She relaxed her shoulders in what felt like the first time in years. Hearing a person being considered a suspect in Louise's disappearance felt like something she wouldn't have ever been able to imagine only a year prior. And here it was, the possibility for justice staring at her in the face for the first time in the last thirteen years.

Hotch turned to exit the room, leaving Melanie to follow closely behind him. "What about me?" she asked.

The black–haired man spun around on his heels to look Melanie in the eye. "You're off the case," he replied emotionlessly.

"What do you mean?" Melanie's blood ran feverishly cold, her stomach sinking with every word he said. "I–I'm the one that knows Louise the best, I can help with this investigation."

Hotch pressed his lips together, a sign that he evidently didn't want to do this to her. "I know what it feels like to be taken off of a case like this. I felt the exact same thing you're feeling right now when Foyet was in the same room with Haley and Jack. Look where pursuing the case landed me, Lamont."

Melanie blinked, the idea of finding Louise's dead body weakened every muscle in her body. Hotch inhaled sharply before continuing down the long hallway towards his office, leaving the brunette woman standing alone.

"She's my sister, Aaron," Melanie spoke to his back, the hurt in her voice alarming him. "I can't sit back and not help look for her. Not when I'm so close. Not when I've spent the last thirteen years trying to find her."

"Your closeness to Louise only jeopardizes you and the case itself. I cannot allow you to be a part of this investigation." Hotch particularly turned around, his body still facing the entrance of his office. "For the record, I really am sorry, Melanie. It's all out of my control."

Melanie shook her head feverishly, her feet moving faster than her mind could as she raced for the office's exit. Anger boiled beneath her skin as she pressed on the elevator button, waiting for an empty one to come up to her floor. The ding of the elevator startled her, but Spencer stepping out from behind the double doors startled her even more.

"Hey," Spencer gently spoke, his arms instinctively wrapping around her and holding her close to his chest. "Where are you going?" he questioned while loosening his grip on her.

Melanie pressed her hand to the side of her head and massaged the prominent vein in her forehead. One that she only got when she was incredibly stressed as Spencer noticed. "Hotch took me off the case," she replied, evidently furious by the decision. "So, I'm going home. I have investigated this alone for over a decade, who's to say I can't handle another day of it?"

Spencer pressed his lips together, a thin–lipped smile forming on his face. His eyes glossed over, the worry in his gaze already forcing a pit to form in Melanie's lower stomach.

"Hey. Don't look at me like that, Spence," Melanie pleaded, her hand grasping his shoulder to provide some form of comfort to the male.

"Like what?" he replied, his dark eyes not wavering the tiniest bit. "I just... I just don't like seeing you like this. I guess I just wish I could take everything you feel and hold onto it and spare you the unnecessary hurt. That's scientifically impossible, well— empaths can generally feel and absorb the energy of others quite easily but it has proven to be rather draining for the individual... Sorry, not important."

"Either way, I sure wouldn't want that for you," Melanie replied with a delicate smile.

His anxiousness passed onto her, provoking her to wrap her arms tightly around his waist. Spencer reciprocated the contact, holding her firmly in his arms while resting his chin on the top of her head. He didn't want to let go of her, but a certain dinging sound made him aware of the unfortunate fact that he had to. An empty elevator came up to their floor, leaving Melanie to step inside of it alone.

"Maybe—Maybe I'll bring you dinner or something," he added, his eyes watching as the elevator doors began to close in front of her.

"I'd like that. I'll see you later," she replied through a smile. "Hey, just... Trust me on this one, okay?"

Spencer nodded slightly. "Okay."

The silver doors soon slid open and allowed Melanie to rush through the lobby and into her sedan, the desire to get home and continue working with what she already had was overwhelming. The drive home proved to be outwardly silent, but the obnoxiousness of Melanie's thoughts made it anything but that. She couldn't help but imagine finding Louise dead, leaving Melanie in a world that her older sister ceased to exist in. She even thought about the possibility of the professional investigation coming up dry, leaving her with even more questions than answers to suffice them.

     She couldn't think like that. Not when Louise felt so close.

Melanie pulled recklessly into her apartment complex's parking lot, stepping out of the car and leaning against it. She relished in the cool breeze of the fall air to brush against her burning hot skin. The contact provided her with some sort of comfort, the type of unspoken comfort that she so desperately needed. Melanie scanned the perimeter, finding only a few cars to be parked inside of the lot. She silently cursed her landlord for not installing new security cameras after the previous ones had gone out, the relatively small gesture would have made her feel much safer.

She made her way up to her apartment door, instinctively peering over her shoulder every few steps to make sure that she'd notice if the unsub was somehow lurking behind her without her knowledge. The silver key in her hand slid into the lock and she quickly rushed inside, turning to bolt the door shut behind her.

Melanie entered her apartment, her body immediately stopping her in her tracks. Her eyes fell to the floor at an unfamiliar message being carved into her hardwood floors. A singular word had been carved into the panel, seemingly done with a thin bladed knife — BRAXTON is what it read.

"Braxton? Braxton...." she thought out loud, her hand traveling to the holstered gun on her belt and pulling it into her grasp. "Braxton!" she jolted upwards.

Her mind immediately took her back to France. News articles of a boy from her childhood neighborhood flooded her brain, the papers detailing a horrific dog attack that nearly killed a young boy named Braxton Moulin. Amelie knew Braxton well. In fact, he and his family helped her stand on her feet after Louise's sudden disappearance considering that the two lived alone and were left to fend for themselves. After being mauled by a dog detailed to be a Rottweiler, the Moulin family left the neighborhood — out of Amelie's line of sight and out of her life in its entirety.

She spun around in circles, her paranoid eyes searching for something that would've given the man access to her apartment. A microphone, a camera... anything. Melanie felt as though she was being watched. Her home didn't feel like much of a home at all in that moment; her entire being was tingling with extreme fear and anxiety.

In the blink of an eye, Melanie's head was sent flying towards the wall. Her nose audibly cracked at the harsh contact, her eyes squeezing shut as she brought her hand to her aching bloody nose. She attempted to spin around and fight back against the unknown individual in her apartment, but a sharp pinch at her neck forced her to stop in her tracks. Her vision blurred quickly as her hand found its way to her neck, pulling a needle out of her skin and dropping it to the floor.

"Who the—Who the fuck are you?" she managed to ask, her legs growing weak beneath her.

"You'll find out in due time, my dear," an unfamiliar male voice spoke from behind her, chills pecking at Melanie's skin as she attempted to aim her gun at the man. However, the newfound substance in her system rendered her unable to do so. "Let's have some fun before then, what do you say?"

With those twisted words, Melanie was drained of her senses and fell entirely unconscious.

Notes.
me: *creates this really traumatic plot point*
also me: WHO TF DID THIS TO YOU MELANIE???

i'm already crying while writing the next chapter, i can't believe i'm doing this to us rn. i wrote up this whole plot before i got insanely attached to melanie's character and now i feel like i'm hurting my baby 💔 hopefully she'll forgive me for this one

thank you for reading <3 buckle up for the next one, friends x