ABLOCATE ▇▇▇▇ VOLUME ONE
━━ ❛ 𝒄𝒓𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒚𝒓𝒔 ❜

chapter no. 010!

❝ I KNOW MY FATE. ❞
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     NIKITA GILL ONCE SAID THAT "DAMAGED PEOPLE LOVE YOU LIKE A CRIME SCENE BEFORE A CRIME HAS EVEN BEEN COMMITTED. They keep their running shoes beside their souls every night, one eye open in case things change whilst they sleep. Their backs are always tense as though waiting to fight a sudden storm that might engulf them. Because damaged people have already seen hell. And damaged people understand that every evil demon that exists down there was once a kind angel before it fell." I like to believe that the character I played was based on that quote. I was, and am, damaged beyond repair, and everything I touched became part of that wreckage.

     I'm a wrecking ball in the form of a twenty-nine-year-old woman, swinging into every room and unleashing havoc. Every mark I made was more than just a scratch; it was a blow to the stomach; a kick to the chest; a stab in the back. I left pieces of myself behind like a tornado. As I soared from room to room, I allowed pieces of me to wither away like dying leaves on an autumn tree.

     Leaving behind parts of yourself makes it easier to face the storm when it comes. If all you have left is you—you truly have nothing left to lose. The storm can take you whole and fly you to the depths of hell, where, to some odd degree, you can feel peace for the first time in a long time.

     Falling down that black tunnel, as I had done so many times before, filled my veins with adrenaline. The darkness of death welcomed me back like an old friend and I felt at peace for less than a second before my feet solidly hit the ground. Pacing myself backward, I outstretched my bloodied right hand and switched on the LED lights. The basement flooded with bright lights and I spun on my heel, flinging open the control panel and typing in the code: 12282000. A loud snap echoed throughout the space as all security alarms and protocols shut down.

     "Valentine!"

     "It's safe," I yelled irritably, shoving my hair out of my face and throwing the beanie to the desk across the room. As I crossed my arms, I leaned against the wall closest to the entrance of the room, rubbing my temple as the sharp pain had returned once again. The sound of sliding and then free-fall bellowed from above me, along with a string of profanities, as Morgan was the first to come down, landing flat on his butt. I smirked as he let out a grunt of slight pain, and soon the others made their way down.

     "This place wasn't here when we came earlier," Jareau noted as Blake helped her off the floor.

     Shrugging, I pushed myself off the wall and walked further into the large room. "That's because it technically doesn't exist," I explained, noticing that a smear of blood ran across my left forearm from where my hand had previously been resting.

     "Why didn't you tell us about it?" Morgan asked in an accusatory tone.

     "You wouldn't have been able to find it, let alone get in," I said blankly, turning around to watch as the team spread out in different directions.

     The walls of the large space were covered in maps of British Columbia; there were pins, sticky notes, and writings scribbled across them in my cursive handwriting. There were white filing cabinets and a long desk against one wall; a computer and two monitors decorated the desk along with notebooks and pens stacked neatly. A mattress was pressed against the next wall to the right of the desk; it had fluffy grey bedsheets with a few pillows and blankets. The tapestry of Du Sang hung above the bed while bookshelves filled with plants, books, journals, and chess pieces stood on either side.

     "What is this place?" Spencer asked as he peered curiously at the maps on the wall, looking over at me for a split second.

     Gesturing about the room, I kept my expression emotionless. "This is where I live."

     The BAU team was soaked in silence, and they each glanced at the other. Clearing his throat, it appeared as if the good doctor was the only one brave enough to question my statement as he spoke, "Y-You live here?" I nodded stiffly at his question, noticing the peculiar looks being thrown my way.

     "After the Surrey Six murders, the new leaders knew how much of a targeted asset I was and were instructed to keep me safe. So, they built this place under one of the clubs Hennessey Lu owns. I've been living here since I was twenty-three." I explained, leaving out the details of the cover story. The truth isn't relevant here. Making my made to the filing cabinet that was to the left of the desk, I opened the second-to-bottom drawer. As I did so, a way of dizziness crashed into me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, pushing down the lump of bile that was creeping up the back of my throat.

     Quickly reaching into the compartment, I wrapped my fingers around the files I was looking for and pulled them out. Since the FBI was now aware of this bunker's existence, they were going to have to call it in, get a warrant, and search the place. So, it was better to give them what they needed to know before it was either destroyed or found later on. Turning around, I made eye contact with Hotch, who was watching me cautiously. "Here," I said, holding out the stack of files.

     His eyes went from the files to my face and then back down, "What are these?"

     "These are all of the documents on everything I've done for the Red Scorpions. Every heist, every mission, every deal, every transaction— dating all the way back to my initiation." I paused, feeling every set of eyes land on me. "I am aware of what I've been charged with— what I've been accused of. I am also cognizant of what I've done. More accusations and charges will be coming my way, it's only a matter of time, so I'm giving you the proof that may give you the answers you haven't realized you're searching for. I am a criminal, but I am not a killer. You all can flip this place upside down and take whatever you need, I don't care." I finished stonily, and Hotch hesitantly took the files.

     Flashing my eyes across the team, I noticed the looks of hesitation, perplexion, and in Spencer's case— pride— being thrown my way.

     "Why are you telling us all of this? Why are you handing yourself over so easily?" Morgan asked suspiciously and I shifted feet, trying my best not to wince in pain as the sharpness returned. "You've been nothing but quiet and secretive for more than half the time we've had you."

     Reaching up, I pressed my lips together as I rubbed my temple, praying for my body to get itself together. "I know my fate and have nothing to lose," I said stoically. "I don't have any friends or family nor do I have a home. This space is merely a prison built to hide me in. Freedom is a luxury that I've never had the pleasure of basking in. To put it plainly, I quite literally have nothing left." No one spoke a word and the silence that answered me was itching at my back like it was earlier. Being in a room with so many people, yet not one dared to speak, irked me. I couldn't stand the absolute silence, at least when there were so many voices present in the room.

     "We appreciate you being upfront," Blake finally said, gesturing to the others. I nodded solemnly and turned around to close the filing cabinet as the wave of dizziness crashed into me again. The ground below was a hazy blur and I stumbled forward, the weight of my body falling against the cabinet with a loud bang. Reaching up, I grasped onto the metal edges to keep myself from collapsing to the floor, and a pair of hands wrapped around my waist, steadying me.

     A high-pitched, long squeal was all I could hear; faces were coming in and out of my pixelated view. Their lips were moving from what I could tell, but I couldn't comprehend a word they spoke. I clenched my eyes shut and tried to push away the wave of dizziness, but it wouldn't retreat. As the pitch was progressively getting louder, the less oxygen I breathed in. Uncurling my hands from around the edges of the filing cabinet, I fell back into whoever was holding my waist. I pressed my hands to my ears in an attempt to drown out the squeal that was beginning to drive me up a wall and gasped for air. It's too loud.

     The squeal was puncturing my mind and it felt like my insides were being burned and ripped apart; everything seared with pain. A heavy breath of air tumbled from my lips as I whimpered in pain, not caring that a group of FBI agents was finally seeing any sort of emotion from me.

     "Cara..."

────

𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗗 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗣𝗢𝗩　 　 　

     SOMETHING WASN'T RIGHT— THAT MUCH WAS OBVIOUS TO THE GENIUS. He knew that something wasn't right the moment they walked out of the police station. Spencer could feel it. The awareness of knowing something wasn't right was vexing. He so desperately wanted to know what was wrong and what was happening inside that intricate mind of hers. Cara Valentine was a mystery locked inside an old, rusty chest that was forever sealed shut. There wasn't a key in the world that could unlock the secrets she held. Everything about her was intriguing and Spencer found himself wanting to know more every time she dropped a breadcrumb; following after her aimlessly.

     The fact that she was so secretive and mysterious only made his curiosity blossom; he wanted to know what was wrong— what was going on. How come he was the only one who seemed to notice that something wasn't right? How was Spencer Reid the only one able to read the blue-eyed woman? How was he the only one who noticed that her hands were shaking ever so slightly on the way to the Pink Dolphin? Why did he notice how her demeanor changed according to who she was talking to? Why did he notice any movement the woman made? Why was she becoming so prominent to him? Why?

     Spencer wished he knew the answers to all the questions floating in the air, maybe it would make what he was feeling make sense.

     Tracing the outline of one of the maps on the wall, he spoke, "What is this place?" Spencer glanced over at the blonde to see that she was already gazing towards him. A light shade of pink dusted his cheeks and he looked away.

     "This is where I live." The sound of her voice made his ears perk up and he was puzzled by the response she delivered. Everyone in the basement was. How could someone live in such a confined, secluded, and tightening atmosphere?

     The other agents in the room didn't know how to feel about this news. Every time the girl opened her mouth, she seemed to always drop another bombshell— another kick to the side that they weren't prepared for. No one was able to decipher or pick apart her actions or words, which only made the case more difficult as time went by. She was unreadable. Unpredictable. Stone-cold. She was a grey statue in a garden of bright flowers that blossomed without reason.

     Morgan eyed the blonde, who he wasn't sure he trusted one bit. Not being able to predict her next move or break her apart made the ideology of trusting her not plausible. Derek Morgan didn't trust loose canons. Especially those who were attractive because even the devil wore a pretty face.

     "Y-You live here?" Spencer stuttered, and Cara nodded, not meeting anyone's gaze. 

     "After the Surrey Six murders, the new leaders knew how much of a targeted asset I was and was instructed to keep me safe. So, they built this place under one of the clubs Hennessey Lu owns. I've been living here since I was twenty-three." JJ watched steadily as the blonde made her way over to a silver filing cabinet, reaching down and pulling out a stack of files that were thicker than the books Spencer decorated his desk with. Cara turned around and made her way toward the Unit Chief, holding the stack out.

     Hotch glanced down at the files, back up at the girl, and then back down once more, debating on whether or not he should take them. "What are these?"

     "These are all of the documents on everything I've done for the Red Scorpions. Every heist, every mission, every deal, every transaction— dating all the way back to my initiation." Cara paused as the room stilled.

     Blake slowly lowered the snow globe she had found on the bookshelf and Rossi halted his search through the notebooks on the desk. Glancing away from the tapestry of Du Sang, Morgan glanced to JJ, who was closing another filing cabinet across the room, and Spencer pulled his attention away from the map.

     "I am aware of what I've been charged with. What I've been accused of. I am also cognizant of what I've done. More accusations and charges will be coming my way, it's only a matter of time, so I'm giving you the proof that may give you the answers you haven't realized you're searching for. I am a criminal, but I am not a killer. You all can flip this place upside down and take whatever you need, I don't care."

     The team watched her with an array of expressions containing hesitation and perplexion and Hotch took the stack. Spencer was the only one in the room who wasn't confused or hesitant. He was proud. Proud of the woman who, less than nine hours ago, wouldn't mumble a word, let alone blink, in the presence of any of them. It hadn't been a full twenty-four hours since they arrested her and they'd come a long way. She had come a long way.

     "Why are you telling us all of this? Why are you handing yourself over so easily?" Morgan asked suspiciously and she shifted her feet. The dark-skinned man was having a difficult time believing that someone would give up so quickly. Especially when they had murder charges against them. "You've been nothing but quiet and secretive for more than half the time we've had you."

     Reaching up, she pressed her lips together as she rubbed her temple. "I know my fate and have nothing to lose," she said stoically. "I don't have any friends or family nor do I have a home. This space is merely a prison built to hide me. Freedom is a luxury that I've never had the pleasure of basking in. To put it plainly, I quite literally have nothing left." No one spoke a word and the silence that answered the blonde was deafening.

     "We appreciate you being upfront," Blake finally said, gesturing to the others. Cara nodded solemnly and it was then that Spencer knew something wasn't right. And this time, he was right.

     The blonde turned around and as she did, there was a slight stumble in her steps before her legs gave out, causing her to fall into the filing cabinet. The doctor rushed over, letting his instincts act first rather than his thoughts; his hands wrapped around her waist from behind as he tried to steady her balance; his eyebrows creasing with worry.

     "Valentine?!"

     "Are you okay?"

     Cara clenched her eyes shut as she let go of the cabinet, causing Spencer to wrap his arms completely around her from behind as she fell back into his chest. He watched as JJ and Blake crouched down, trying to check if the woman was okay. Morgan observed from behind Rossi, his eyes continuously darting between Cara and Spencer as the two women tried to talk to her. If he wasn't sure pretty boy liked the girl before, he was now.

     The blue-eyed girl brought her hands to her ears, covering them. "Spence, what's happening?" JJ asked, and the doctor looked away from Cara for a split a second. "I think she's hearing some type of noise. Hence why she can't hear us and is covering her ears." Before anyone could say a word, a small whimper left her lips, causing everyone to go silent.

     "She's in pain. We have to do something," Blake said in a hushed voice, looking at Hotch.

     "Cara..." Spencer said softly, peering down at her. She had seemed to hear a voice this time for she opened her eyes, turning to look back at him. As she did so, a bolt of pain shot through her legs and she whimpered again, pulling her shaking hands back to cover her ears again as she sunk to the floor. The brown-haired man wrapped his arm back around her waist hesitantly as she sat on the floor, leaning into his chest as her breathing pattern escalated.

     Shaking his head, Rossi huffed. "That's it, I'm calling an ambulance," he snapped, pulling out his phone before the Unit Chief held out his hand to stop him.

     "We promised her that we would keep her safe. Taking her to a hospital would only put her in more danger," JJ interjected as she felt herself having a slight change of heart for the shaking woman.

     For the next three minutes, the basement was cold and eerie as the team paced, sat, and pondered on what they were to do.

     Cara ground her teeth as the noise intensified. The sharper it got, the more pain she felt coursing through her veins. "Mak—" a grunt of pain came from the blonde before she could continue speaking, the noise getting louder. "Make it stop." Cara Valentine had never felt so pathetic in her life as she sat on the ground, whimpering in pain, begging people she barely knew, let alone liked, to help her. Knowing that her guard was completely gone at this moment was more terrifying than the thought of the Red Scorpions' punishment when they got her back.

     On the other hand, Spencer Reid had never felt so useless before. There was nothing he and his bright, beautiful brains, could think of to explain what was happening or to think of ways to help. He was useless. He could only think of one thing that could help and that was physical contact; wrapping his arm around her protectively as she withered away in pain.

     "Hotch, I can't stand here and not do anything." Morgan finally spoke and uncrossed his arms. "We need to do something."

     The Unit Chief stood there in contemplation, his dark eyes fixated on Cara and Spencer, watching analytically as the doctor squeezed her lightly for comfort. "Valentine is too important. We can't risk anything happening to her, but if she doesn't get help, we risk her safety." Hotch spoke slowly as the girl on the floor pressed the palms of her hands to her ears forcefully. "Rossi, call and have medics sent here now."

     The Italian man glanced up from his phone with a look of dread written across his features, "There's no signal down here."

     A loud and heavy sigh broke the conversation as Cara's arms limply fell to the ground and her eyelashes fluttered. Leaning back into the brown-haired doctor, she felt her body being submerged in drowsiness. The blonde wasn't usually one who liked physical contact, but she needed someone's touch so she knew this was real— that she wasn't hallucinating. "They're here." Every set of eyes directed to the woman who was shaking slightly, the noise inside of her head now gone, along with the pain. "T-The—" Cara's eyes fluttered shut before she could finish speaking, becoming consumed with darkness as she laid against the doctor unconscious.