ABLOCATE ▇▇▇▇ VOLUME ONE
━━ ❛ 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒛𝒓𝒂𝒆𝒍 ❜

chapter no. 024!

❪ 𝚃𝚆 : 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙵 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝙸𝙲 𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴𝚂 &
𝚂𝙴𝚇𝚄𝙰𝙻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙰𝚄𝙻𝚃. ❫

❝ AND IT WON'T BE LONG. ❞
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     NOTHING BUT DARKNESS ENGULFED THEM. All the lights had been turned off and the door locked as Stephen Leone slammed her against a wall. "Let me go!" Cara screamed in the darkness of the night, unable to depict where she was as his clammy hands danced along her torso. Her body was twisting and turning violently, but no matter how hard she fought—no matter how hard she tried, she was still stuck. Completely and utterly stuck.

     His hot and icky breath smelled of weed and beer as he whispered in her ear, "Oh baby-cakes, calm down."

     "I'm not your baby-cakes," she grunted, trying to move her body away, but the chains around her wrists and legs made it impossible for her the move anywhere.

     Cara's eyes clenched shut as she felt Stephen kiss down her neck. "Stop," she ordered, her stomach churning as she felt his hands slide up her shirt.

     "Don't worry, your boyfriend will never know this happened."

     She felt like she was going to be sick. Sweat slid down her face. "I said stop, Leone."

     As the words left her mouth, a blade was pressed against her throat, silencing her. "Not another word," he hissed, moving his face up so they could make eye contact.

     "Let me go. If you want your revenge on the Scorpions, go after its leaders. Not me." Cara snapped, resisting the urge to wince as she felt the knife being pressed harder.

     Leone scoffed. "We're already working on that. You're just a bonus," he winked, and in one swift move, her pants dropped to the floor.

     "Owen will kill you," she whispered, and a whimper left her lips as he moved. "Stop."

     "Don't act like you don't like this."

     The knife cut against her neck and she squeezed her eyes shut.

    "Stop!"

     Choking, she sat up, grasping frantically at the air around her throat. She could still feel the presence of the freezing cold knife against her throat, digging deeper the more she protested. She could still feel its sharp edges running over her smooth skin, ready to pierce at any moment. In her eardrums, she could vividly hear her heavy breathing and the sweat that'd been running down her forehead.

     It was only a nightmare, and she knew that, but it left her shaking.

     What was once a block between her and her emotions was now an abyss of darkness; the emotions she'd been suppressing for years crashing over her in waves, salty water clogging up her throat as she tried not to cry.

     Blinking, a tear trickled down her cheek. Sweeping her eyes around the kitchen, she realized that she'd fallen asleep on the floor while staring out the window, keeping watch as she always did. The frying pan she used as her weapon of choice was beside her. Pushing herself off the ground slowly, she trudged to her closet, arms wrapped tightly around her torso.

     Everywhere she looked, she saw flashes of Leone pressing her against the wall, a knife held to her neck. Shaking her head, she tried to focus on grabbing some clothes. Black skinny jeans, an army green turtleneck, and her leather jacket were the first pieces she swiped.

     Exiting her closet, she made her way to the bathroom and flipped on the nights, wincing at how blinding they were to her bloodshot eyes. She placed her clothes on the sink and turned on the shower, closing the door and locking it. As she stripped, her eyes caught a glimpse of her appearance. On her lower neck were bright scratch marks. She'd been scratching in her sleep, trying to remove the knife.

     Gulping, she ran her cold fingers over the irritated and bumpy marks. Luckily, she hadn't scratched hard enough to break the skin. Just enough to irritate it. They would fade soon.

     Averting her eyes, she stepped into the shower and spent the next twenty-four minutes and eight seconds showering, getting ready and dressed, and putting on her usual makeup. It was only four in the morning, but Cara didn't care.

     She couldn't stay in the apartment. She didn't feel safe and needed something to stimulate her brain, and get her to focus on something else other than the nightmare.

     And only one thing came to mind that would help her with that—paperwork.

────

     THE HUMAN BRAIN BECOMES SHATTERED AND DISORIENTED THE MOMENT IT STEPS INTO THE REALM OF FEAR AND PARANOIA. A realm Cara Valentine had found herself stumbling into more often than not. Each time she stepped into its fold, she was greeted by fears of the past and old demons who'd sharpened their claws over the years of absence.

     The Uber ride to the Bureau had been filled with silence as Cara eyed the driver, making sure he didn't do anything remotely questionable. She would have walked, but she didn't trust her luck enough to walk alone at four twenty-three in the morning, and there was no way in hell she was going to wake Spencer and ask her to come with her. He needed rest, she wasn't going to be the reason he didn't get any, even though she knew he'd come with her without hesitation.

     Once arriving at headquarters, she tipped the driver way too much but didn't notice as she scrambled to grab her purse and go-bag. Slamming the door shut, she hastily walked went through security and made her way to the elevator. Before stepping inside, she looked to the left and right, making sure nobody had followed her. They hadn't. It was so early in the morning that not a soul had come through the doors yet, aside from the guards and overnight staff, which consisted of only eight people.

     The moment the elevator doors shut, she anxiously tapped her foot against the floor while simultaneously rubbing her right thumb against her left wrist. A ding sounded as the elevator arrived on the sixth floor and she jumped.

     Shaking her head at herself, she began walking. All the lights were off in the BAU, except for three that were dimly light and located near each of the elevators.

     As she pushed open the glass doors, she shined the flashlight on her phone around and made her way into the bullpen. Arriving at her desk, she flipped on the lamp. Sliding the freshly packed go-bag underneath her desk, the blonde let out a hefty sigh on the bare-empty floor of the BAU. Without bothering to take a peek at the semi-high pile of files awaiting her, she made her way to the kitchenette.

     It only took seven minutes and forty-five seconds for her to brew a fresh pot of coffee and pour some into two large coffee mugs. Under her breath, she hummed along to the melody of 'Walkin' After Midnight' by Pasty Cline and stirred creamer into both mugs.

     For as long as she could remember, Patsy Cline was the only feminine voice she ever heard as a child. Her father would play Patsy Cline records on an old, creeky record player that previously belonged to her grandfather. Cara had never met the man, she solely knew of him through stories Ross Valentine shared when she was a young child and began questioning where the rest of their family was.

     As far as she was aware, Cara Valentine only ever had one parent.

     All she knew about her mother was that she died during childbirth and her favorite song was 'Walkin' After Midnight' by Pasty Cline. Once she found out that second fact, it became her favorite song. She liked to hum or sing along to it whenever she was alone. It was comforting. And comfort was something she needed right now to ease her nerves.

     Holding both mugs in her hands, she slowly walked back to her desk, making sure she didn't spill either. Placing them underneath the lamp, she sat down and began sorting out all the paperwork on her desk. She knew a good majority of it was already completed, she just needed to sort through and figure out which files she needed to turn into Hotch and which ones she needed to give to Anderson to file.

     Ten minutes and eight seconds passed when she finished sorting through the ones that were completed and delivering them to their designated desks. Sitting back down, she quickly drank half of the first cup.

     Now, all she had left to do was finish filling out the rest, which shouldn't take her more than two hours at most. Her desk was primarily empty now, aside from her phone, the cups of coffee, the lamp, a stack of files, two pens, and a cactus that Blake had given her— that of which she named Hartley.

      "Focus focus focus, Cara," she muttered to herself, reaching for her coffee as she picked up a pen.

     An hour, eleven minutes, and twenty-four seconds of nothing but the sound of a pen moving across paper had passed before it was interrupted by the sound of a phone buzzing. No one had arrived yet and it was quiet. Peaceful. Pausing, Cara reached for her phone, which now sat on the opposite end of her desk.

     Meet me at my office in 30.

     The moment she re-read Hotch's text, the door to the bullpen opened and she snapped her gaze up. "Valentine?" the Unit Chief questioned, startled to find her sitting in the near dark of the BAU. Behind him stood a man with black and grey hair in a dark suit.

     "Hi," she responded, the tone of her voice bland.

     "Cara Valentine, SES Mateo Cruz. He's the BAU Section Chief." Hotch introduced, gesturing to the man beside him. Mentally noting to ask why she was there at half-past five in the morning and breaking the curfew she'd agreed to later.

     Standing up from her desk, the blonde made her way closer. "It's nice to meet you," she greeted, holding her hand out to him.

     "It's nice to finally meet you too. I've heard good things." Cruz smiled, shaking her hand.

     "All lies," she half-heartedly joked, trying to make as good of an impression as possible for the sake of her boss. "Hotch, I got your text. I'm assuming you didn't just want me here to meet Cruz."

     Hotch rolled his shoulders back. "There's been a development in the Red Scorpions case."

     It was at that moment that Cara Valentine's walls came crumbling down to the ground. Her face morphed into a blank slate and her skin tone faded to a shade lighter. As soon as she started growing comfortable, bam. Five steps backward. She should have known.

     "Did they find my father?" she asked, glancing at the stack of files in the man's hands.

     "It'd be better if we took this to my office," Hotch replied.

     Nodding, Cara followed after the two towards the ten-by-eleven foot office. Inside, the team leader turned on the lights, shut the door, and closed the blinds. "Please, sit," he instructed, rounding his desk.

     Rather than listening, the woman stood by the door, her line of sight never leaving Hotch. "What's going on?" she asked sharply, not wanting to beat around the bush.

     "Ms. Valentine, I would take a seat if I were you," Cruz advised, nodding to the empty chair beside him.

     Inhaling deeply, she reluctantly walked forward and sat down. Before she had the chance to open her mouth and repeat her question, Hotch spoke.

     "What we're about to discuss is classified information. Nothing said in this room leaves or reaches the ears of anybody outside the three of us. Have I made myself clear?" His tone was cold and left no room for argument.

     Cara nodded. "Crystal."

     "Over the past two months, I have been in correspondence with a former team member who currently runs the London office for Interpol, Captain Marvinhill from Vancouver P.D., and Cruz. We've been tracking any and all domestic and international activity associated with the Red Scorpions, their known clients, and the members in prison. In addition, every move, call, text, purchase, case, and paperwork you've done and completed has been recorded both on and off the record. Everything that's happened with you and the Red Scorpions has been kept secret in these files. This includes information and documentation that you provided us from the bunker." Hotch announced, sliding three thick manila folders toward her.

     Leaning forward, the blonde read over the name stamped across the front. "Operation Azrael?" she questioned, glancing up.

     "Yes, and the Vancouver P.D. is working on preparing officers to go undercover in the drug trafficking community in British Columbia," Cruz spoke up.

     "Everything we know ever since you joined the team is in these files as well," Hotch added. "Do you remember when you came to the conclusion that your father was left behind in Fairbank to be ablocated?"

     Furrowing her brows the slightest, Cara nodded.

     "All the searches in Arizona for your father have officially turned up negative. There hasn't been any forensic or physical evidence that he was ever there." Hotch announced, interlocking his hands that rested on top of his desk. "Stephen Leone's apartment at the Oaks-Rose apartment complex in Ucluelet was also searched. There was zero sign of him."

     "And there has been zero sign of any of the Founding Fathers," Cruz added, folding his hands.

     "Any chatter from the trafficking community? Rumors?" she asked, darting her eyes between the two.

     Hotch shook his head. "All's been silent."

     "Then what's the development?" Cara questioned, growing disoriented.

     The two men shared blank expressions before turning to her. "Owen Sánchez was attacked last night in prison. He's in the ICU." Hotch announced, watching the woman's body language and facial expression with precise eyes.

     In response, the blonde simply blinked. Her expression, composure, and posture never wavered and her eyes revealed nothing.

     The Unit Chief almost sighed. She was good at hiding her feelings and what she was thinking. He had to give her that. She wasn't going to show either of them how she felt, and they both knew it.

     "Sánchez was attacked last night in the showers. He was stabbed repeatedly and sustained several broken bones. Whoever attacked him has yet to come forward." Cruz continued, realizing that she wasn't going to respond.

     "The warden believes that it wasn't an attempt to murder Sánchez, but an attempt to scare him. Apparently, there's been trouble among the inmates and Sánchez." Hotch added, tilting his head to the side.

     Cara almost snorted. "Some of them probably found out who he is. The Red Scorpions have a lot of enemies in the trafficking ring and Canadian gang community." Holding herself back from making a snarky comment, she leaned back into her seat, maintaining her emotionless character.

     As she was speaking, Cruz checked his watch, noticing the time. "I've got to get going," he cleared his throat, standing. "It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Valentine. Hotch." The SES Chief nodded to both of them before leaving the office, shutting the door behind him.

     Once he was gone, Hotch turned his attention back to the youngest team member. "The Vancouver PD is still actively searching for the remaining members of the Red Scorpions, which solely includes Stephen Leone, as well as heavily operating on the possibility that the Founding Fathers are still alive. If any new developments are made, you'll know."

     Nodding, she stared at him plainly. "Is that all?" she asked, wondering if that was really all they had to tell her.

     "Not quite," he replied, sitting up straighter. "Sánchez has requested to see you."

     This time, the woman from him wasn't able to hide her reaction. Her eyes widened. "Did he actually?" she retorted, allowing an edge of bitterness to creep into her tone.

     "Yes. I told the warden that I'd get back to him. The decision is up to you," the dark-haired man replied.

     Cara blinked for the first time in three minutes and sixteen seconds. "You want me to talk to him, don't you?" she deduced, taking into account the expectant expression he was giving her and the fact that they didn't have any new information pertaining to the case that would be beneficial.

     "We need intel, even if it's minimal. However, the decision is entirely up to you."

     It was silent and she averted her eyes. On one hand, if she agreed to see him, she'd be potentially, and willingly, walking into a trap. Owen was smart—smarter than she ever gave him credit for. She was the ultimate reason why the three leaders were each in separate prisons. She'd turned her back on them and opened her mouth. A decision she had yet to regret, despite the fact that she now lived in a world consumed with paranoia.

     On the other hand, if it wasn't a trap and he genuinely wanted to see her, she didn't have much to lose. The romantic connection between them had died long ago, and they weren't friends. There would be no risk concerning their relationship, especially when it no longer existed. Besides, a part of her felt obligated to say yes. She owed the team for everything they'd done for her—particularly Spencer and Hotch, for bending over backward to make it possible for her to join the team when she never asked to be.

     Also, a part of her was intrigued. What was it that he wanted to tell her? There was nothing left to say.

     "I'll only speak to him. I won't see him face-to-face," Cara spoke after exactly two minutes. It'd be safer if she spoke to him over the phone, rather than traveling back to British Columbia, a place she never wanted to return to.

     Hotch nodded. Without a word, he dialed a number into the office phone. The sound of ringing filled the room and they waited in silence for someone to answer.

     "Turner." A sharp voice answered.

     "Warden, it's Aaron Hotchner. We spoke early this morning." Hotch greeted.

     "Yes. What can I do for you?" Turner asked.

     Glancing at Cara, the dark-haired man replied, "Cara Valentine has agreed to speak to Sánchez. Is he conscious?"

     "Woke up about twenty minutes ago. I'll transfer you to the prison's ICU line."

     "Thank you."

     Cara placed her chin on her hand and leaned forward, inaudibly sighing as the two were placed on hold. "Hotch," she mumbled. He met her eyes. "I'd like to apologize in advance for cussing him out."

     For the first time ever, she could visibly see the corners of his lips inch upward. So, he does smile.

     "Hello?" Owen answered, his deep voice sounding raspy and rough.

     A surge of memories came to the forefront of Cara's brain and she pushed them away. She couldn't allow herself to reflect on the good bits that they had. That ended long ago and she just needed answers now.

     "Cara?" he called, waiting for her to reply.

     Hotch furrowed his brows, noticing that the sound of his voice had caused the woman to falter.

     Clearing her throat, the blonde sat up. "I'm here," she replied, aware that her boss was watching every move she made.

     "God, I've missed the sound of your voice." Owen sighed, and she stiffened. Those were the exact words he said when they last talked. "How are you?"

     "Why did you want to see me?" she questioned, not bothering to answer his question. Silence answered her. "I'd think twice before lying to me. If I hear one lie come out of your mouth, I will not hesitate to end this call, do you understand me?"

     Across from her, Hotch almost interjected but held back. She knew Owen Sánchez better than he did, if anyone knew how to get him to talk, it was going to be her.

     "I can tell someone hasn't lost her snarkiness," he chuckled.

     "I said, do you understand me?" Cara snapped, not in the mood for games.

     A sigh echoed around the room. "Yes. Are you alone?"

     Owen was the one person who could tell and knew when she was lying. There was no point. If Cara wanted him to be honest, she had to be as well. "No. My Unit Chief is here, but we're alone. Anything we talk about is confidential."

     "Ah. Aaron Hotchner."

     At the mention of his name, Hotch narrowed his eyes.

     "Yes, but you're not speaking to him. This has to do with me," she spoke sternly, her shoulders tensing.

     "I heard that you'd joined the F.B.I., I just wasn't sure if it was true," Owen remarked. "And from the sound of your voice, you've grown to care about them, haven't you?"

     Cara's brows drew together. "What did you want to talk to me about?" she asked.

     "Can I trust Agent Hotchner?"

     The two looked to one another, both equally puzzled by the question.

     Hotch went to answer, but Cara held up a hand, shaking her head. "Yes, you can," she responded, hoping he heard the reassurance in her words.

     "Good." Owen said shortly, before continuing, "You're not safe, Lyn."

     "Don't call me that," she interrupted, nearly wincing at the nickname.

     "Can you shut up for one minute and let me talk?" Rolling her eyes, she averted her gaze to the floor. "He's alive and it won't be long until he finds you."

     Both Cara's stomach and face dropped. The hair on her arms rose. Her pupils had widened and her skin tone was significantly paler than it had been seconds ago.

     The Unit Chief noticed this and recognized the signs right away. Reid had pointed out months ago that this was her tell for when she was afraid. And right now, Cara Valentine was petrified and glued to her seat.

     "They're alive and they have your father. Person Y has Ross." The mention of her father's name caught her attention. "If I promise to tell you what I know, can Agent Hotchner have me put in solitary confinement or protective custody?"

     Cara scoffed, quickly bouncing back from the fear that plunged into her heart. "And you gave me and my father shit for betraying the Red Scorpions. Wow. That's rich."

     "Listen, Arthur has placed a bounty on my head. All right? This isn't the first time I've been attacked and it won't be the last. I need protection."

     Hotch frowned.

     "I don't know about that, you could use a beating," she commented, blinking in response to the look the man across from her shot. Was she wrong?

     "Do we have a deal or not?"

     The two looked at each other and she sighed, knowing that they didn't have any other choice. They needed whatever they could get. Hotch nodded. "Yes," the ex-convict replied begrudgingly.

     "I want to hear Agent Hotchner say he agrees."

     Cara went to answer, but the dark-haired man beat her to it. "Yes, Sánchez. We have a deal."

     "Good." Owen breathed, and Cara could hear a sliver of fear in his voice. "There were two phases to our final plan. Phase One: you were arrested for being in connection with multiple murders and evidence that you were involved in the drug trafficking community. Then, we faked the deaths of the Founding Fathers and framed Ross Valentine for their murders; Farell picked Ross up from Marcus Taylor and Flint Bradley afterward at the Pink Dolphin and killed them.

     "Initially, Arthur had been ordered to promise Farell that he would give him you in exchange for Ross. Farell agreed. However, things changed when we took your father with us to Arizona and held him captive. While we had him, we struck a deal that we had, coincidentally, already planned on making. We set you free, allow you to live, and Ross would give us any and everything we wanted. He was ours to keep. That was the deal. Farell protested, but that's when we get to the second phase.

     "Phase Two: I was sent back to BC to talk to Stephen Leone and convince him to come out of hiding and work for us. At the same time, I also set up one of the wireless routers that eventually lead to our collective arrest. Meanwhile, Arthur and Farell were ordered to kill the youngest and most skeptical followers or the ones that hadn't proven themselves to us. Then came the final exchange. Arthur was in cahoots with the Founding Fathers and was under their command, but also had his own agenda. His last order was to hand Ross over to Hennessey while he and Farell waited for the F.B.I. to come to collect us."

     It was quiet as Hotch and Cara processed everything they'd just been told. It made sense, and it explained quite a bit.

     "Was my father in on all of this?" Cara eventually asked, biting down on her lip. She was scared of the answer. Months ago, she predicted that he could have known about all of this, but she wasn't positive. Now, she could find out if she was right or not.

    Owen hesitated. "He only knew that he was going to be framed for the Founding Fathers' death by us. That's it."

     "How?" she questioned, her hand falling from her cheek. She was right... son of a bitch. "How did he know?"

     "I told him," the man on the other end of the phone uttered. "Over the years, I've kept him updated on everything the Scorpions did and everything that concerned you."

     Her eyes stung and she didn't know why. All she knew was that she was upset. "For how long?" she choked out.

     "Since the night of the Surrey Six."

     Those seven words were what crushed her and her jaw dropped. "The night you became a leader was the night that you became a mole..." she whispered, primarily to herself.

     This entire time... and he never told her. Neither did her father.

     "It's like I told you... I didn't want to be a leader. I never did," Owen murmured, his voice cracking. "All I ever wanted was to be with you, since the moment we met. Arthur found out a month after we'd all been sent to prison. That's why there's a bounty on my head. He can't kill me himself so he's offering money to whoever can. I chose you over them."

     Why didn't they tell her this?

     If he really chose her then why...

     Cara deflected her focus to the carpet, blinking back angry tears. There was no way she was going to cry in front of Hotch. It was never going to happen.

     "Lyn? Did you hear me?" he asked slowly.

     "If you chose me then how could you stand there?" she whispered, but she knew that both men heard her. "How could you stand there and allow Farell and Arthur to kill Raine and Ace like it was nothing? How could you stand there, all those years, and watch them force me to do things I didn't want to; stand there silently whenever Arthur enacted what he saw as punishment? How could you hold a gun to my head when I refused to carry out the Red Blood? How could you have done all of that and more, if you chose me?"

     The office was still with tension as the blonde was doing her best not to break.

     Hotch was quiet as he didn't know whether he should speak or end the call. He'd never heard the young woman speak with such aggression, yet pain, before. Cara Valentine had always been emotionless and stoic. Never showing more than amusement, frustration, or confusion. The last time he'd witnessed her in any similar state was when Captain Marvinhill had announced that the Founding Fathers were dead and her father was missing. However, it wasn't to this extent.

     "I had to play along. You know that." Owen sighed.

     "Don't—" Cara's voice broke off. "Don't use that as an excuse."

     "I chose you, Cara."

     She shook her head, standing. "No. You chose something, but it wasn't me. It wasn't us. There were a million other things you could have done to choose what we had, but you didn't."

     Owen audibly sighed. "This was the only way. You'd do the same exact thing I did!"

     The Unit Chief watched as she turned away, shaking her head.

     "No, I wouldn't have. I wouldn't then and I wouldn't now! If you truly believe that then you're just as much of an asshole as you were years ago. You had the opportunity to say no, but you didn't take it. It's just like what I told you before: you always have a choice. It's whether or not you have the balls to make it is what matters." Cara argued, her voice rising.

     "No one says no to Le. You, of all people, should know that." Owen fired back, and her jaw dropped.

     "Did you really just go there?" she hissed, spinning around.

     Silence answered her and Hotch stood up. "This conversation is over," he declared, and before either could protest, he hung up.

     Outside the office, Reid, JJ, and Garcia stood at JJ's desk in the bullpen. They were all staring at the closed window blinds of their boss's office. "Is Hotch in yet?" Morgan asked, joining the group.

     "Can't tell," JJ mumbled, leaning against the hand that was pressed to her cheek.

     Garcia bit down on her bottom lip. "Maybe he's in there with Rose," she suggested, holding onto her cup of hot chocolate tightly.

     Everyone swiveled to face her. Reid's eyebrows were scrunched together and JJ gave her a perplexed expression. The only person who knew the meaning behind that nickname was Morgan.

     "Cara. Her middle name is Rosan," she explained, speaking in a 'duh' tone.

     The corners of Reid's lips twitched upward before he directed his attention back to their boss's office.

     Nodding slowly, JJ crossed her arms. "Maybe there's been a break in the Red Scorpions case," she shrugged.

     "If that were the case, wouldn't Hotch have called us all into a meeting?" Morgan asked, rubbing his hand up and down Garcia's back. She shot him a smile.

     "Not necessarily," Reid muttered. "If it's something diminutive, he might not think it's necessary for us to know."

     "Where's Valentine?" Blake spoke up, joining everyone after placing her things at her desk. She couldn't help but notice that the missing woman's belongings were neatly scattered across her desk, yet she was nowhere in sight.

     Turning her head, JJ sent her a small smile. "Hotch's office," she answered, letting out a quiet breath of exhaustion. Right as she finished speaking, the Unit Chief's office door opened and Cara Valentine stalked out, her head down.

     Everyone immediately looked at her, noticing that she didn't meet any of their eyes as she stormed past. Turning their heads, they continued to watch as she weaved her way between agents and ignored Rossi, who'd just arrived. The blonde walked out of the bullpen and BAU, the glass doors closing behind her as she turned right, walking down a hallway.

     The team collectively looked to Hotch's door to find him exiting, following after Cara.

     Garcia bit down on her lip and shared worried expressions with Blake.

     "Hotch, what's going on?" Morgan called, but the dark-haired man didn't answer.

     "Aaron, is everything okay?" Rossi asked, but Hotch simply gave him a look. A look David Rossi recognized. Something bad had happened. Without hesitation, the Italian man placed his belongings on a random desk and followed.

     Watching the two leave, Reid stood up, ready to go after the woman but Morgan held his arm out, stopping him. "Kid, let them handle it," he instructed.

     Reid shook his head. "No. I promised her I wouldn't leave her. I need to be there for her."

    JJ grabbed onto his arm, shaking her head. "Spence, let them handle whatever's going on. Just be ready to be there for her when she returns." He let out a sigh of defeat, knowing that if something was wrong and Cara needed him, she would tell him. But a part of him didn't care and wanted to be there for her regardless.

     Down the hallway, Cara had burst into the empty women's restroom and made her way to the sinks. Turning one on, she began washing her hands, feeling disgusted with everything that just happened. How could the two of them not tell her? She understood not telling her at first, but what about at some point during the next six years? Or at the very least before she got arrested so she wouldn't have been caught off-guard the way she had been? She and Owen could have—

     There were too many questions swirling in her mind and she could feel her stomach tightening. She was going to be sick. Swallowing down the bile crawling up her throat, she squeezed her eyes shut as her throat clenched. Swallow, clench. Swallow, clench. She kept swallowing and her throat kept clenching, but no matter what she could do, the warm feeling in her stomach would not stop. Whirling around, it was then that she could taste it in the back of her mouth.

     Walking into a stall, she dropped her knees and threw up into the toilet.

     The last time she'd eaten was at lunch yesterday, and she only had coffee since, and both left her system as she threw up again. Coughing, she grabbed some toilet paper and wiped her mouth. Throwing it into the toilet, she flushed it.

     The thoughts and strings of whispers running around in her brain were loud and demanding to be heard. Everything was a haze and the sick feeling from her stomach hadn't faded all that much.

     A hand was placed on her shoulder and she jumped, turning her head. Behind her stood Hotch and Rossi, sympathetic looks on their faces.

     "Come on, kid," Rossi muttered, removing his hand from her shoulder and holding it out. The remaining energy she arrived at the BAU with that morning was long gone and after throwing up, she felt wiped. So, without protesting or standing up on her own, she took his hand and he helped her off the floor.

     Once she was back on her feet, she gave him a slight nod and returned to the sink, washing her hands again.

     "I uh," she began, switching the sink off. "I allowed the conversation between Owen and I to get too personal. Emotion clouded my judgment. I'm sorry."

     Hotch scrunched his brows, crossing his arms. "Valentine, you did fine. If it didn't get personal, I'd be a little concerned."

     The blonde turned around, tossing a paper towel into the nearby trash can. "Still, I should have kept myself more in check. I shouldn't have let what he said affect me the way it did. I didn't get enough information out of him. I know we need it, and I screwed that up," she huffed, leaning against a wall.

     The Unit Chief frowned. She was too hard on herself. "You didn't. You got viable information that can be used in court after the case is closed. You did a good job." Hotch insisted, raising his brows as he spoke.

     Cara sighed in response. "I'm assuming our circle of three has been expanded now," she stated, glancing at the Italian man who was watching her closely.

     "I'll fill you in later," Hotch noted, meeting the older man's eyes. Rossi nodded. "Garcia texted a minute ago. We have a case. Possible spree killer in Cleveland," he stated, and Cara nodded. "For this case, you're going to stay here and work it with Garcia."

     "Understood," she replied, knowing that she wasn't in a stable headspace to be in the field and didn't have the energy to argue against his orders.