"Are you excited?" Elle's voice pulls Cassandra out of her thoughts, and she blinks multiple times as she sets her novel–Return of the King–down on the seat next to her. The two of them are on a train, being sent to do a custodial interview with William Devries, a child murderer who has finally agreed to participate in the VICAP questionnaire. Hotch really only needed to send one of them, but as they both are new to the team, he'd sent them together.

"Yeah. I've never been to Texas." Cassandra grins. "Hey! When we're done, maybe we can hit up a club or something?"

Honestly, she really wants to get to know Elle better. She's hung out with Derek and Spencer outside of work, and she has plans to go thrift shopping with Penelope soon, but she's never done anything with Elle. Hopefully this trip will change that.

"Absolutely." Elle smiles back, excitement lighting up her eyes, before she goes back to reading up on Devries. Cassandra had spent the night memorizing the case, so she goes back to reading her favorite novel. It's well-loved, traveling with her since high school: dog-eared and crinkled and with coffee stains on some of the pages.

It doesn't matter how many times she reads it, she's transported to Gondor as if it's her first time turning the pages. It's not until the brakes of the train squeal, the car being forced to a stop, that she's pulled out of her fantasy world and right back to reality.

A few riders stand up, confused, and Cassandra shares a frustrated look with Elle. They really should've taken a car, but Elle had wanted extra time to review the case, and Cassandra loves taking trains.

"What the hell was that?" A kid asks, one headphone hanging out of his ear. He looks to be in his early twenties, and he looks annoyed at the interruption. Behind Elle, a woman with spiky red hair turns around as well, and Cassandra is just about to volunteer to check when a guard walks down the aisle to them from his own car.

"Everything's all right, folks." He assures them in a steady voice. "Everybody just relax. Everything's gonna be fine. Everything's fine."

"What happened?" Elle asks as soon as he's reached their seats.

"Nothing, ma'am." He starts, pausing when he sees the FBI file on her lap. He crouches down, looking over at Cassandra for a moment before turning back to Elle. "You on the job?"

Cassandra doesn't take the dismissal personally: she's in plain clothes, with nothing to identify her as an FBI agent, unlike Elle. He wouldn't know that she has a gun on her, or that she and Elle are partnered up for this case.

"FBI." Elle answers, and Cassandra pretends to continue reading as the guard sighs, shaking his head.

"Suicide." He explains, and Cassandra freezes for a second, feeling horrible for whoever felt that low. Jumping in front of a train is not a painless way to go, so to feel that much pain internally that they felt it was their only way out? Cassandra feels for them. "Somebody jumped in front of the train."

"Is there anything I can do?" Elle asks, and Cassandra gives up the ruse of being uninterested.

"I'm a doctor." She tells him, not bothering to explain that she doesn't work with a hospital right now. "So if there's any way I can help, I will."

"Thank you." He gives her a smile, gratitude and relief in his eyes. People are always relieved to find a medical professional nearby, she's found over the years. "Unfortunately we have this procedure down fairly well."

He stands up again, calling for everyone to relax and explaining that they'll be back on schedule soon. He turns at the end of the aisle, and before anyone can react, a man sitting behind him pulls the gun out of his holster and shoots him with it. Cassandra counts two shots, instantly surging to her feet. She rushes over to the guard just as the man shoves past her, hitting Elle.

As much as Cassandra wants to turn around, she knows that Elle can handle herself, and gunshot wounds take precedent. She's got her jacket off in seconds, pressing it to the wounds as he groans feebly, weakly trying to push her hands away.

"Nobody move!" The man shouts, swinging around with two guns in his hands. He's erratic, his eyes wide in panic, and behind him a welt is forming on Elle's face.

When the gun lands on Cassandra, she freezes but doesn't move her hands. If she does, he'll bleed out, and she can't risk that. The gun swings back to Elle when she starts talking, and Cassandra takes the time to analyze the situation. He now has both Elle and the guard's guns: Cassandra still has hers, but she doesn't dare pull it out now. The odds of him noticing her reaching for her ankle holster and shooting some of the others–shooting Elle–are too high.

"You don't have to hurt anybody else." Elle tries reasoning with him, her voice strong.

"What are you doing?" A woman in a tan sweater calls out frantically.

"Shut up!" The man shouts at her, anger replacing his panic. He brandishes both guns at her, and she flinches, while Cassandra takes advantage of the distraction to carefully lift her jacket away and check the wounds. They're through and throughs, which is a relief: at least she doesn't have to worry about bullets bouncing around in him. No, her prioroty is to keep as much of his blood in his body as she can, and she clamps a hand over his mouth as she pushes the jacket back in place.

"What are you doing?" The man snaps at her, and when she looks up, one of his guns is pointed at her. The other is aimed behind him, at the woman with the red hair. "What are you doing!?"

"I'm just trying to help." Cassandra says softly, wincing when his hands shake. His fingers are too close to the trigger for her to feel comfortable. "That's all. I'm just trying to help."

"You were sitting with her." He says slowly, jerking his head in Elle's direction. "You're one of them! You're with her!"

This is about the FBI file.

The realization hits Cassandra, and she swallows thickly. Part of her wants to agree, just to take the heat off of Elle, but that won't help any of them. She needs to stay with this injured man, and she doesn't need him deciding to search her. If he gets a third gun . . . Cassandra doesn't even want to know what'll happen to everyone on this train.

"No." She speaks calmly, carefully. "I just sat with a woman. I'm a doctor, that's all."

"You–you were reading. You were reading a file, just like her!" He shouts, and she shakes her head, shifting with a wince. Her knees are starting to ache but she can't risk moving properly.

"No, I was just reading a book. It's called Lord of the Rings. You can see for yourself."

"She's telling the truth." Elle speaks up, nodding to the chair across from her, where the book sits where it was tossed in all of the commotion. "We don't work together. She's just a girl who sat near me. That's all."

His eyes dart between them, looking for a lie, but they hold his gaze steadily until he abandons that thought, huffing. His eyes go distant, looking through them, and Cassandra allows herself one loaded glance with Elle.

We're so fucked.

"Okay. This is from one of the security camera's inside the train." JJ pulls up the feed for them as they gather in the conference room, wishing that Elle and Cassandra were there as well. She respects the team, of course, but there's something comforting about working with women that she's been getting used to. Now she's surrounded by men again, and she misses the two of them.

Also, Cassandra wasn't there to bring her a coffee this morning, and JJ really misses that act of kindness.

"Six hostages in a car stopped on the tracks." She continues, sending a quick look to the video. "We have one security guard dead from initial gunfire."

On screen, the gunman keeps turning, pointing his gun at different hostages. There's two men standing with their hands up, a slumped over security guard with a woman crouched over him, her face hidden from view, and a woman trying to hide behind her seat. They can't see the other hostages: they're either hidden behind seats or behind the gunman.

"Yeah, in West Texas." JJ says, pausing. If it's in Texas . . . "Maybe Cassandra and Elle can help us, when they're done with their custodial."

"Why are they asking for us?" Morgan asks.

"Because of a particular psychological aspect of the hostage taker, which we're especially equipped to handle." Hotch answers, looking at a file.

"Can you back that picture up a few frames?" Reid asks, ignoring Hotch in favor of staring at the footage. He leans closer to the screen as JJ does just that, something connecting for him. "Tardive dyskenesia."

"Once more for those of us without an encyclopedic memory?" Morgan asks, sending an amused look JJ's way, who can't help but smile. She loves the way the two of them bicker.

"Severe facial tic–the kind that develop after years of taking anti-psychotic medicine." He answers immediately. "I just learned more about them recently, since Cassandra was kind enough to let me review some of her medical journals. It can be caused by long-term use of drugs such as chlorpromazine, haloperidol, or from drugs for Parkinson's, depression, and seizures. One of her journals also–"

"So this guy's a psychotic?" Morgan asks, refocusing Reid on the conversation.

"A psychotic with hostages." Hotch adds.

"And two guns." JJ sighs, shaking her head. Did the security guard have two on him, or did the gunman bring one himself?

"I'd be more inclined to believe that the tic developed after using anti-psychotics over Parkinson's, yes." Reid nods.

"Hostage situation on a train?" Gideon enters the room.

"Yeah. In Texas." JJ answers quickly.

"A train in Texas." He mumbles, moving to stand next to Reid, looking at the footage. "My god."

"What?" Morgan asks, instantly alert.

"Elle." Gideon points to where Elle can now be seen sitting up in a seat, since they'd rewound the tape. That gets all of their attention.

"Elle?" Morgan asks, his voice sharp. "Wasn't she travelling with–?"

"Yes." Hotch sighs, dread on his face. "I sent Greenaway and Grey together. They're both on that train."

"Why would they be on it? I mean, they both know how to drive, and the bureau lends out SUV's when we travel." Morgan snaps, moving closer to the footage, his eyes narrowed before he sighs. He points a finger at the woman kneeling over the security guard, the one whose face they can't see. "That's her. She would've tried to save him."

"Elle called me on the train." Gideon sighs, running a hand down his face. "She said she wanted more time to study the file, and that they were an hour away."

"Did she say anything else?" Morgan interrogates him, his eyes sharp. He's got a soft spot for Elle, having encouraged her to join the team, and an even softer one for Cassandra, who'd been assigned as his partner. He'd taken his role as her guide into the BAU–the way Hotch is Elle's–very seriously, determined to have a lasting partner.

Gideon shakes his head, his face grim, and dread polls in JJ's stomach.

They load up in one SUV, with Hotch driving, Morgan riding passenger, and JJ sitting between Reid and Gideon in the backseat. JJ is the one receiving updates as the media liaison, and she keeps them informed as they drive, wishing she could snap her fingers and have them on the scene.

"Local authorities have the train surrounded. Bureau hostage rescue team snipers are in position, but they're hesitant to take action until negotiation is exhausted. The feed from the train's two video cameras are being routed to monitors on a mobile command center that the local bureau office brought in."

"We need to know who on that train is gonna be a help and who's gonna be a problem." Hotch announces, and Morgan is quick to call Penelope, putting the call on speaker.

"Como se dice 'hottie'?" She asks as soon as she answers, but Morgan doesn't smile at the warm greeting for once.

"Garcia?"

"Precisely." They can all hear the smile in her voice, and normally that would be enough to have JJ smiling as well, but with two of her friends in a hostage situation, that isn't happening. Their friends, JJ thinks to herself with a sigh. They're friends with Penelope too, she just doesn't know that they're in trouble yet.

"Okay, listen to me. No playing." Morgan tells her seriously. "We're gonna be feeding you some security camera video from a hostage situation over a secure line. Can you work your face recognition software over it and tell me who's who?"

"If they have their picture on file anywhere, I will find them." Penelope responds confidently.

"Penelope?"

"Yeah?"

"Elle and Cassandra are two of the hostages."

"I'm into it." She answers instantly, her voice serious now. She hangs up instantly, and JJ knows that she'll be working overtime to get them any information they can.

"Have we had any contact inside the train yet?" Gideon asks, turning away from the window to look at JJ.

"No. It took two hours just to convince him to allow a two-way phone, but he won't speak to anyone except what he calls the, uh . . . higher authorities." She answers with a sigh, worried about what that means for his hostages. Normally hostage takers have a list of requests–transportation, money, freedom–but his main request is to be left alone.

"God?" Hotch suggests.

"No mention of religion thus far." JJ answers.

"Has crisis negotiation's lead claimed to be the higher authority?" Hotch asks her.

"The unsub won't speak to him any longer." She explains. "He gave a deadline of three hours to produce this authority."

"Three hours." Reid turns to her, having only been listening this whole time. "When was that?"

"Um . . ." JJ checks her notes, wincing. "Two and a half hours ago."

"Well, he wants to speak to the Higher Authority."

"Then we better give it to him. Put the lights on, sirens, honk the horns, make people get out of our way. Get as close to the barricade as possible. When we stop, we sit. We wait 30 seconds. Then we step out."

When more sirens sound from outside, Cassandra desperately hopes that it's her team.

They've been on this train for hours, and the security guard had succumbed to his injuries quickly. She'd tried her best, but with the unsub–a man named Ted, according to the woman who'd been traveling with him–refusing to get him help, there hadn't been much she could do. Her hands are covered in blood, along with her shirt and the jacket she's long since discarded. The smell coats the air around them, only making the passengers more tense.

Elle has been handcuffed to her seat, but the unsub hasn't hurt anyone any further.

He's been more focused on talking to the hostage negotiators, insisting that they weren't some Higher Authority that he wanted to speak to, and then refusing to say anything else after giving them a deadline to procure said authority. He'd pulled the blinds so that the police can't see into the train car, although Cassandra has noticed a camera in the corner. She really hopes that they've hacked into the feed from it.

As the siren grows louder, Ted slowly sits up, his gaze focused on the small gap in the blinds.

"Teddy, you have to listen to me." His companion tries softly, and he surges to his feet.

"No!" He shouts, and then there's a pause as his cheek moves involuntarily. He's been doing that ever so often, and Cassandra makes note of the tic even as she tenses up from her seat. "You have to listen to me now!"

"Lady, your boyfriend is whacked out of his mind." The man from earlier, who'd been listening to music, tells her. He's thankfully not overheard, and Cassandra grits her teeth as she keeps an eye on the unsub. He's gone back to his previous position by the window. The last thing they need is this man–Josh–making things worse because he can't keep his mouth shut.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Then who is he?"

"He's a psych patient, right?" Elle asks the woman, Linda, who confirms what Cassandra had already assumed.

"Yes. It's going to be okay."

"And you know that, how?" A man asks. He's been quiet up until this point, clutching a briefcase to him. He's wearing a suit and his face is drenched in sweat.

"You're his doctor?" Elle continues, turning her head slightly to see the woman.

"I was taking him to Dallas to speak at a conference, as an example of the progress being made to relieve severe psychosis."

"He's an example of progress?" Josh laughs, twisting around to watch Ted, who is scratching his gun on his temple. Cassandra fights the urge to pull her gun, yet again: the last thing she wants to do is aggravate him. He still has two guns, and with the police outside, she's worried about collateral damage if she tries anything.

"What do we do to calm him?" Elle whispers, but Cassandra pauses.

"TD, right?" She asks quietly, nodding to herself when the woman confirms it. That explains the tics, and the way he's rocking at the moment, the gun still pressed to his own head.

"He's never had this sort of break from reality, never been violent." Linda insists, sighing.

"What can we do?" Elle repeats, stronger this time.

"Make him feel less threatened."

"We're a threat to him?" Josh scoffs. "He's got two guns!"

Before Cassandra can say anything to him, the red haired woman groans. It's a pained noise, and it instantly has Cassandra's attention.

"What's wrong, Elaine?" She asks, just in time for her to say she's going to be sick. When she pukes, Josh complains, and Cassandra has never wanted to smack someone more in her life. She's the one sitting next to her, and yet she's not complaining. Sure, she's used to the smell after years working in a hospital, but that's not the point. People get sick. It's just part of life.

"I just haven't been feeling that well lately . . . my stomach."

"You're not pregnant?" Linda asks, and the look in her eyes is all the answer they need. She turns to her patient, speaking softly to him again as she carefully stands up, ignoring the way Cassandra hisses for her to sit down. "Teddy . . . please. This girl is sick."

"Shut up!" He roars, pointing his gun at her as he spins around again. "Sit down!"

She carefully sinks down into her seat across from Cassandra, who is glaring over at Josh. Josh's focus, however, is on the man in the suit. The one who hadn't introduced himself when Cassandra had asked, trying to learn everything she could and keep the passengers calm at the same time.

"What are you doing?" Josh asks, and that's when they see how he's slowly opening his briefcase. Cassandra heart sinks: if he pulls out a weapon, if he pulls out a gun, they're screwed.

"Don't be stupid." Elle hisses. The man pulls his hand out, holding a Bible, and Cassandra sighs. That was way too close, and way too tense for her liking.

"Are you kidding me?" Josh asks.

"Shh."

"What are you gonna do? Throw it at him?"

"Can you shut up?" Cassandra asks him, shaking her head when he goes to speak. "No, I'm serious. If he wants to read his Bible, let him. He's not hurting anyone."

"COME ON!" Ted screams suddenly, and Elaine gasps loudly, jerking back in her seat.

"Whacked out of his mind." Josh insists, amused, pulling a flask out of nowhere. He gets one sip of it before Cassandra snatches it from him, leaning across the aisle and keeping one eye on Ted, who is transfixed with the police presence outside still. "Hey! That's mine!"

"Shut the fuck up." Cassandra snaps, rolling her eyes when he reaches out and licks at his wrist, getting every last drop that spilled when she pulled it from him. "How drunk are you?"

"None of your business." He scoffs, looking every bit a rebellious teenager, and disgust is not a strong enough word for what Cassandra feels. The last thing they need is an alcoholic making things worse for him, and yet here they are, trapped with one. Fantastic.

The flask gets shoved between her seats: she's not willing to dump it, considering it could prove useful if anyone else gets hurt. A possibility that grows with every second they're on this train.

"Don't look at the train. Ignore it." Gideon orders as they finally evacuate the SUV. All of them follow his lead, looking the opposite way. Morgan slides on his sunglasses, doing his best to seem unbothered, even though every instinct in him is screaming for him to get on that train. This is one door he can't break down, though, so he follows Gideon around to the other side of the car. "The Higher Authority isn't concerned about losing a few civilians."

"I'll talk to the HRT commander." Hotch decides just as an agent walks over to them, introducing himself.

"I'm Frank Moretti, Dallas field office." He shakes their hands, although Reid stays out of his way, not one to shake hands. "Near as we can tell, your agent is still alright."

"Agent?" Reid asks, frowning. "Just one?"

Moretti pauses, looking confused. "Er, yes. We were told that she was alive."

"We have two agents on that train." Gideon tells him, his eyes narrowed. "Elle Greenaway and–"

"Greenaway is the one we were told about." Moretti explains, shifting his weight. "There was no mention of another agent. Just a doctor who tried saving the security guard."

"That's her." Morgan relaxes slightly, sharing a relieved look with Reid. "She's probably trying to lay low, to avoid attention."

"Has the subject asked for anything, made any demands?" Gideon asks, but Moretti shakes his head.

"Not beyond wanting to talk to a higher authority. How do we negotiate with a psychotic who won't talk to us?"

"That depends on the level of his particular delusion." Gideon answers calmly.

"Some psychotics believe they're being sent messages by the government, god, even aliens." Reid adds, his fingers tapping at his side. "John Nash believed he was being recruited by aliens to save the world."

"I saw the movie." Moretti smiles, but Reid instantly shakes his head.

"Actually, the movie is rather inaccurate in its portrayal of–" He's cut off by Morgan gently setting his hand on his shoulder.

"Okay, doc, doc, doc." He says until Reid looks over at him. "A movie review is not gonna help us right now. Let's move."

"You're right, sorry." Reid gives him a sheepish smile, letting himself be led away. They move straight to the tent set up, and then to the command center, where they see a live feed.

"His delusions are important. That's what we have to play to." Gideon reminds them.

"So the question of the day . . ." Morgan sighs, sliding his sunglasses off and into his suit pocket.

"What does he believe is happening here?" Gideon asks for them all, his gaze wandering from screen to screen.

"Good luck. I tried to convince him I was the highest authority, but he wouldn't believe me." Moretti tells them, sitting down next to them.

"Well, he's paranoid, he believes in secrets." Gideon sighs. On the screen, he's walking down the aisle, looking in all of the seats as if expecting a new passenger to pop up. "If I'm the Higher Authority, I don't go to him. He comes to me. We have to help him ask the first question."

"Ted, you have to try and concentrate." Linda tries encouraging him as he walks down the aisle, but her words only anger him.

"Get up!" He shouts, reaching over Cassandra and grabbing Elaine by the hair, who instantly screams and tries to fight back. Cassandra and Elle both shout, telling him to take them instead, and he lets go of her with an annoyed shout.

"Take me!" Elle shouts again, but he shakes his head, puffing out his cheeks three times. When his eyes land on Cassandra, she doesn't fight it. Elle does though, shouting louder even as Cassandra sends her a look, wanting her to stop.

"You think I'm gonna let you send them messages?" He snarls, glaring at Elle. His free hand grabs Cassandra's shoulder, yanking her up. She nearly falls from the sudden movement, and the lack of space doesn't help her stay on her feet. "No! She can do it!"

"They're gonna want to talk to me." Elle insists, not wanting Cassandra's status to get revealed. "I can get you whatever it is that you want! Take me!"

"Maybe I should take her." He lets go of Cassandra to grab Elaine again, who whimpers and ends up curled in Linda's lap. She'd moved in the chaos, trying to get away from Ted.

"Hey, man!" Josh protests, standing up, only to get hit in the head with the gun. He falls back into his seat, and Cassandra has had enough.

"Just take me." She snaps, stepping forward before his gun swings on her and she stops. She has to force herself to calm her voice, frustration making it difficult. "I can do it. Just take me."

"I don't have time for this." He hisses, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck and yanking her forward. Cassandra bites back a yelp of pain, not wanting to give into the feeling, and lets herself get shoved to the ground at the front of the train. She's across from the security guard she failed to save, with a gun shoved into her face.

"Don't say a single word unless I say it. Deviate a single word, and I will kill you." He insists, the gun digging into her cheek before he pulls back. "Don't try to send them any secret messages or codes. Do you understand?"

"Yes." She answers calmly, holding eye contact with him until he looks away. "Yes, I understand."

When the phone rings, it's the relief of her life to hear Jason Gideon's voice on the other end.

"Yes?" Gideon answers the phone, making sure to sound unbothered, even though he'd just watched one of his agents get dragged across the floor. Right now, the unsub has a gun held to her chest, and another one close to her face. Next to him, Morgan and Reid are tense, eyes never leaving the screen in front of them.

"He wants to know who you are and who just arrived." Grey tells them, her voice filling the room. She sounds a little shaky, but strong. Capable, but with a little bit of fear. He doesn't doubt that it's over the possibility of him revealing that he knows her, when she's identified herself as a doctor and not an agent.

"Tell him it's someone who can help resolve the situation." He answers calmly, no hint of familiarity in his tone.

Grey repeats his words, her voice growing stronger with each word, and then she gasps as they watch him yank her closer to him by her hair. He whispers something in her ear, the phone not catching it. Morgan keeps clenching his fists like he wants to barrel through the barricade and punch the guy, while Reid is biting his lip, looking uncomfortable.

"What part of the government do you work for?" She asks them a moment later, revealing what the unsub was whispering about.

"I never said I was with the government." Gideon answers calmly, lifting a finger when Moretti opens his mouth, looking confused. Morgan quickly mutes the call, looking to the other agent.

"The less he says, the more mysterious we seem, the higher an authority we become." He explains, lifting his fingers to his mouth in a message to be quiet. When Moretti nods, leaning back in his seat, Morgan unmutes their end.

The unsub slaps Grey across the face when he doesn't get an answer quick enough, and while Reid jumps, she doesn't react other than a small gasp. Her voice is still strong as she repeats the question, and she's impressing Gideon with every second they spend on the phone.

"Ask who they work for. No! Ask if they're NSA!" The unsub orders on the other end. "No! Ask–they're FBI, aren't they?"

"Are you FBI?" Grey dutifully repeats.

"He can ask me himself." Gideon tells her, watching as she lowers the phone, handing it over to the unsub. He twists, hitting the seat behind him with the gun, before he accepts it.

"Tell me who you are or this agent dies." He says into the phone, his voice shaking. He has one gun pointed at Grey, who hasn't tried to move.

"You know who I am."

"If you're the Higher Authority . . . then you can have it removed." He tells them, and Gideon shakes his head. It. What's it?

"That'll take some time."

"I want it removed now." He insists, shaking his head. Morgan takes a step forward, but Gideon holds out a hand, stopping him.

"You know it can't be done that quickly." He says, attempting to buy as much time as possible. "Goodbye."

"No! Wait!" The unsub reacts exactly how Gideon had wanted him to, panicking at the thought of him hanging up the phone. "Okay! One hour. You have one hour . . . to remove it, or I swear to god, I'll kill every agent on this train."

As soon as the call is no longer connected, Moretti is speaking.

"It? He wants it removed? Do you know what it is?"

"No." Gideon breathes, watching as the unsub sits down on a seat, Grey still sitting on the floor in front of him. His gun is still pointed at her. "We just bought an hour, though, to figure it out."

When Cassandra switched careers, she updated her will.

The original version was made with Lexie, after their mother had died. It was the kind of thing they hadn't ever thought about until they'd been given items from a will, and then they'd decided they needed to make them themselves. Honestly, there hadn't been much to give away, and it'd been very simple. They'd appointed each other as the executors and they'd given all their belongings to each other to do with as they pleased.

With Lexie dead, Cassandra had changed her executor to Meredith, who she appointed all of her worldly possessions. Her money was to be split between Meredith and her children, with it being used for her funeral as well. She'd also made Meredith her emergency contact, figuring she'd just add her to the top of all of her paperwork while she was at it.

Even though she trusts her team, she can't help but be relieved that she did all of that as she watches Ted tap his fingers along the gun still pointed at her. His other hand is scratching at the arm holding the gun.

"We have forty minutes left." Moretti tells them.

"Reid, is there a delusion more common than others to a paranoid mind in a psychotic episode?" Hotch questions. All of them are desperately trying to figure out what 'it' is that needs to be removed, knowing that if they get it wrong, people may die.

Cassandra and Elle might die.

"Delusions are as varied as the people that have them." Reid answers, still standing next to Morgan. He looks at Hotch as he speaks, but Morgan can't pull his eyes away from the screen. "They're colored by personal experience."

Cassandra's shirt is stuck uncomfortably to her, weighed down by blood and sweat, and it's a struggle not to let her discomfort show. She's sweating profusely, and she winces every time it drips onto the cut on her cheek. Linda is taking care of Josh's cut, at least, since Cassandra isn't willing to risk moving.

"I'm doing it. Leave me alone!" Ted hisses at no one–well, no one that they can see–and Cassandra rolls her head back, wishing she had a bottle of water. Thirst is killing her.

"I'm doing it!" He shouts, dropping his arm in favor of throwing his arm up. For a second his gun is off of Cassandra, who bites her tongue. The longer they're stuck on this train, the stronger the urge to tackle him and at least go down fighting grows.

Trust the team. You trust them. They're not going to let you die.

They won't. She knows they won't. In moments like these, with no backup–she respects Elle, but the woman is handcuffed and weaponless–it's a little harder to believe so strongly, but she tries.

"What is it?" She asks him softly, having to ask another time before he finally looks at her, instead of over her shoulder.

"You know." He snarls, glaring at her. "You're one of them! You know!"

"I'm not." She says, still speaking softly. "I don't know. Is it . . . is it something that I have, too?"

"It's in me." He says softly, and she opens her mouth, ready to ask what it is in hopes of getting a message out to the team. She's not sure how she'll manage that, but one thing at a time. Before she gets the chance, Ted's focus flickers. "I'm doing it! I'm doing it!"

She's not going to get anything out of him anytime soon. Cassandra drops the subject for the time being, not wanting to push him too far. He's not in his right mind, and Cassandra doesn't want any of them getting hurt, Ted included. She doesn't trust that he won't hurt himself in the process, especially given how he's scratching at his arm so ferociously.

"Ugh! It's so hot!" Ted suddenly complains, sounding childish instead of angry. He moves away, stripping out of his coat, and Josh chooses that moment to speak up again. Honestly, Cassandra kind of wishes he was unconscious. She takes the opportunity to rise to her feet, not wanting to be on the ground any longer.

"You took hostages in the middle of Texas." He snaps, surging to his feet. Linda tries pulling him down, having been cleaning his wound, but he ignores her. "Of course it's hot."

Ted moves toward Josh, but Linda jumps in front of him.

"That's exactly what they want, Ted." She whispers, trying to break through to him. "They want to divert you from having it removed."

He lets out a sob, allowing her to grab his arm and twist it, so that Cassandra can finally see where he was scratching. On his arm are multiple raised welts and scars, signs that he'd tried cutting and ripping it out of him.

"You're close to having it removed." LInda assures him quietly, playing along in the way she'd know how to do best.

Please let the team see this, she thinks desperately, remembering the camera behind her. Please be watching.

"His arm." Gideon speaks up, standing up to get a closer look at the screen. One of the hostages has the unsub's arm tilted, showing off an array of scars that stand out even in the black and white footage.

"What?" Hotch jerks his head over from where he'd been researching psychotic breaks.

"Look at his arm."

"What is that?" Reid questions, leaning in from behind Gideon's chair.

"They look like scars." Morgan answers.

"The places he tried to dig it out with a razor or a pen." Gideon continues.

"Dig what out?" Moretti asks.

"Maybe a microchip." Hotch suggests, frowning at the camera, where Cassandra is leaned back in a chair. He's just relieved she isn't on the floor anymore, and is slightly out of the unsub's sight, like Elle. If they can just stay under the radar, he'll be happy. He damn near had a heart attack when the unsub was dragging her around, knowing that he could snap at any time.

"Oh, man." Reid sighs. "It's almost as common a delusion as claiming to be the new messiah. Ralph Tortorici held an entire classroom hostage because he believed microchips had been implanted in his body."

"Wait a minute. This guy thinks he has some kind of device stuck in his arm?" Morgan asks, frowning as he finally looks away from the screen. A second later he's back to glaring at them, as if he's scared to look away for even a second.

"Probably." Gideon sighs. "And, if we don't take it out, he's gonna kill somebody."

At that moment, Morgan's phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket without looking away from the screen. Elle is talking to some of the hostages, but Cassandra has her head in her hands.

"Yeah. This is Morgan. Okay, Garcia, talk to me." He looks around, grabbing a pad of paper and a pen. He writes down all the information she gives him about the hostages. "Penelope, you are truly amazing. Okay, you know what? Send it all to me right now. Keep digging. Penelope, nice work."

"Tell me about the hostages." Gideon orders as soon as he hangs up the phone, while Morgan logs into the computer and pulls up his email account. Garcia has sent him information on every member of the train, including their ID's and anything else she could dig up on them–excluding Elle and Cassandra, of course.

"Okay. Let's see. First we've got Harry Anderson. He's a paper goods salesman. He lived in a small home just outside of Dallas for eighteen years with his wife. He's got no children, no investments, no company retirement portfolio."

"He doesn't take chances." Gideon analyzes. "Tell me about the kid."

"Kid's name–Josh Patel. He's twenty years old. He just got expelled from Gillett University for driving his car into the library building drunk."

"He's drinking in there." Gideon reminds them with a sigh. "We saw Grey steal his flask, and we saw him steal it back after she moved. We don't need a drunk in there."

Morgan grits his teeth, his anger flaring at the thought of his friend and partner getting hurt because of this stupid kid's actions.

"We don't have a lot to go on with the girl." Morgan continues, pulling up her drivers license. "Nothing more than her drivers license. Her name's Elaine Curtis. She lives in a small town in West Texas. She's got no credit cards. No passport. Doesn't look like she travels much at all."

Morgan pulls up another file, this time about their unsub's companion. "This is Dr. Linda Deaton. She's a psychiatrist at Stokes Mental Health Center in El Paso. That's where Ted Bryar's been living for the last nine years."

"His doctor?"

"I'd say probably. She's unmarried, lives in El Paso. Um, she's written several books and papers, mainly published in medical circles. She's a popular lecturer. She's scheduled to speak at several symposiums this year and tonight in Dallas. That's it. That's all I got. Garcia's in the process of looking deeper, but I don't really see how this lineup's gonna be much of a help to us, Gideon."

"Well, let's just hope none of them makes the situation worse."

Cassandra is really sick of getting dragged around.

Not that she's going to say that: the last thing she needs is him picking a different hostage to cart around. She'd rather it be her than Elle or the others. She can handle this. She's been through worse.

"Hmm." Ted groans, stroking one of the larger scars on his arm, ignoring her for the time being. She's been shoved into the chair across from him, so that he can keep an eye on her and also watch outside, waiting for any hint of movement.

It doesn't escape her notice that, if they don't follow his instructions, she'll be the first he tries to kill.

"I'm not with any government agent." Josh stands up suddenly, and Cassandra swallows thickly, watching him step closer to them. He ignores the look she sends him, urging him to go back to his seat. "I'm with you. Big brother, right? New-think, new-speak? Well, hate is love, war is peace."

"Stop it!" Ted shouts, aiming the gun at him as he stands up.

"No, Ted, it's okay!" Linda moves in front of Josh yet again. "He doesn't mean anything."

"Yeah, chill! I support you. Screw the government."

"Make him sit down." Ted orders Linda after a long moment of silence. He sits back down, quickly followed by Josh and Linda, and Cassandra could scream. Nearly every time something has gone wrong, it's because of this stupid kid. How hard is it to just keep your mouth shut? The other passengers are doing a great job of that.

A poster on the wall behind Josh reads time to enjoy your view, and Cassandra has to twist away from it before she starts laughing. She can't believe how quickly her day was derailed.

"Alright. How do we remove a microchip that's not there?" Hotch asks, pacing around their space.

"His speech is lucid. There's no sign of neologisms, word salad, or loosening of associations. As long as he can systemize, he'll be able to keep his thinking relatively organized." Spencer states, also pacing. His hands tap at his sides as he walks, his brain racing to try and find an out. It'd be easier if he wasn't so worried about Cassandra and Elle, who've both been hurt and could end up in a much worse state if they don't come up with a solution before the deadline.

He keeps thinking about Cassandra's offer to have another reading night soon. He'd been surprised by how comfortable he'd been in someone else's space, even after she'd fallen asleep before him. He'd been readily welcomed into her home, shown her collection of books, and there'd been no annoyance when he'd gotten excited and needed to ramble about something new he'd learned or something that reminded him of something he'd already known. She'd listened to him speak with a small smile, and every time he'd started to feel insecure about talking so much, she'd ask him a question to keep him going. He's not used to being allowed to speak so freely, and he doesn't want to lose that.

He loves routines, and over the last few months, he's gotten used to working with Elle and Cassandra. He's used to Elle sitting at the desk next to his, occasionally trying to pass off unwanted files to his desk. He's used to Cassandra bringing breakfast in a few times a week, always keeping his separate from the rest in a way that makes him comfortable enough to eat it. He's gotten used to their jokes, and their questions, and their friendship.

He really doesn't want to lose them, and he knows the others feel the same way. They'd feel dedicated if it were any set of hostages, of course, but with it being two of their own, all of their feelings are amped up.

"Organized enough to see through any game we try to throw at him?" Morgan asks unhappily, scowling at the screens.

"And if he's convinced it's in his arm, and not in a place like his lower back or neck . . ." Hotch adds with Gideon finishing the thought for him: "An incision means he's gonna be watching."

"Maybe we can just convince him that he's been looking in the wrong place." Morgan suggests, just as Spencer has an idea.

"Or we could fake it!" They turn to look at him, and he hurries to explain. "Conceal a chip in the palm, a little, uh, sleight of hand." He demonstrates, his hands flying through what he's done dozens of times with a quarter he finds in his pocket.

"Come on, Reid. What are you talking about? A magic trick?" Morgan scoffs, looking at him in disbelief.

"Yeah, I'm talking about a magic trick!"

"No." Hotch rejects the idea instantly, but he's not finished.

"I–I used to do it during college exams. I can make it appear, I can make it disappear." He demonstrates again, while they stare at him incredulously.

"We can't risk giving him another agent as a hostage."

"We have to do something." Spencer insists, narrowing his eyes. What other choice do they have? Morgan suddenly stands up with a sigh, standing directly in front of him. "Cassandra would agree with me, and you know it."

"Alright, Reid. Let's go. Teach it to me."

"What? No."

"Look, if you can do it, I can do it." Morgan tells him. "Show it to me."

"I've been practicing this my whole life!" Spencer protests, refusing to budge. "We have less than 30 minutes."

"Reid, I am not about to let you get on that train with an armed psychotic." Morgan tells him seriously, pointing at the camera feed without taking his eyes away from him. For once, Spencer doesn't let himself back down, staring back with determination.

"We don't have any other choice, do we?"

"No." Gideon breathes, standing up now. "We don't have any other choice."

"Ted?" Linda speaks up some time later. Cassandra is still sitting in the same spot, although she now has her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped casually around her ankles. "You feel a little bit better now?"

Ted grimaces.

"You're in no danger here." Linda continues softly. "These people don't want to hurt you."

His face scrunches up, his eyes squeezing together before he blinks rapidly.

"The FBI agent just happened to be on the train today. She wasn't following you, wasn't watching you. Neither was the doctor." Linda's eyes flicker over to her for a second before going back to Ted, still taking slow steps in his direction. "Let them go, Ted. I'll stay with you. You and I will do this together, only you need to let these people go. I will wait with you. No one wants to hurt you. We don't want to hurt you."

"No!" Ted screams, surging to his feet and aiming the gun at her.

"It's okay! Ted! Ted, it's okay!" She rushes backwards, her hands held up in fear.

"Don't!" Elle shouts, fighting against her handcuffs. "I will make sure they never take it out of you. If you hurt one more person on this train, I swear to god, I'll make them leave it in you forever."

He turns away from her, his face scrunching up again, but his eyes darken as soon as they land on Cassandra. He moves over to her quickly, ignoring the way Elle calls after him, threatening him still. His gun gets pushed against Cassandra's cheek, and she flinches both at the threat and at the way it digs into the cut already there.

"You're a doctor." He breathes out, shaking his head. "You–you did this! You put it in me!"

"I didn't." She speaks as calmly as she can, wincing when he moves the gun to dig at her temple. She doesn't want to imagine how many bruises she's going to have, if she walks out of this. "I didn't put anything in you. I'm not an agent, I'm just a doctor."

Ted shakes his head, not able to hear her, his fingers twitching on the gun.

"No, no, no!" He cries, pulling the gun away slightly before his face tenses and he swings it back at her. Elle shouts behind them, but Cassandra can't hear what she says over the panic and pain rising in her. "Your fault. Your fault, your fault, your–"

The phone ringing stops him just as his finger was inching towards the trigger, and Cassandra barely dares to breathe.

When he moves away from her, moving to the phone, she sags back into the wall. Her hands are shaking, and for just a second, she meets Elle's panicked eyes. I'm okay, she mouths, but Elle's lips only tighten as they both look away, not wanting to scare Ted any further by communicating.

"What?" Ted asks into the phone, crouching down to look out of the window. "I want it out. No! One. One technician. One technician! Or every agent on this train dies! . . . Not anymore. I want it out now. Right now! NOW!"

He's crying when he turns around, and Cassandra can't help but feel bad for him.

"Reid, do not take this vest off." Morgan insists as he helps him put it on, adjusting it until it fights properly. "In hostage situations, SWAT sometimes won't even tell the negotiator when they're deciding to go in. Do you know why that is?"

"'Cause the slightest change in tone of voice or choice of words can give the whole thing away." He answers, and Morgan pats him on the shoulder proudly.

"That's right. Don't make eye contact with Elle or Cassandra, you hear me? You're a technician. You've never met either of them. You don't know their names. You don't know anything about them, and you don't care that they're hurt."

"Got it."

"And remember, play into the guy's fantasy. Believe it yourself."

"Actually, did you know that dentists and surgeons have been recruited to secretly implant these during otherwise normal medical procedures?" Morgan stares at him incredulously. "This has been happening on and off since the late 1930s. You told me to believe."

Morgan chuckles at him, leading him out with a hand on his shoulder.

"Alright. One government issued microchip." Hotch joins them, having spent the last few minutes digging it out of a phone. He holds it up for them before handing it to Spencer. "Let's practice."

He drops it the first few tries.

"You gotta relax, man." Morgan sighs, rubbing his neck as he watches Spencer drop to the ground to pick it up.

"The chip's a lot smaller than I'm used to doing it with, alright?" He defends himself, frowning down at his hands. It doesn't help that he's wearing gloves now, when he normally doesn't when performing a magic trick.

"I'm pulling the plug on this." Gideon sighs, watching it slip through his fingers again.

"No. No, hold on." Spencer insists, scooping it out of the grass once again. "One more."

He quickly blows any grass off of it, determined to get this right. Before Gideon had called him, he'd held a gun to Cassandra's head for far too long. If he doesn't get this right, they don't doubt that Ted will go down firing.

This time, he doesn't drop it.

"Take his chip out. Then get off the train. You understand?" Gideon tells him. Spencer nods, sparing a quick look at the train. "Tell him you need to get back to the Higher Authority. Say you have guidelines to follow, whatever. Do not stay in there with him. That's an order."

"Yes, sir."

He turns around right before he leaves, hating the looks they're giving him.

"Can you guys do me a favor?"

"Anything." Morgan agrees instantly.

"Could at least one of you look like you're gonna see me again?"

Morgan looks away, but Hotch nods.

"See you when you get back."

When Cassandra is yanked to her feet, she doesn't expect it to be because Spencer Reid is walking onto the train. She's not sure what she expected the team to do, but sending in their youngest member with nothing more than a bulletproof vest and a clear bag–is that a scalpel?–certainly wasn't on the list.

"That's far enough." Ted orders before Spencer can come any closer, his gun digging into Cassandra's side. She's relieved that it isn't pointed at her head anymore, if anything. She has a much higher chance of surviving a shot to her stomach than to her head: she's already gotten shot once, anyways.

"Hello, everyone." Spencer greets calmly, taking a quick look around the room. His gaze doesn't linger on Elle or Cassandra, which is a relief. They don't need Ted getting suspicious of him. He clears his throat. "Um, I'm here to remove a chip from Dr. Bryar."

"Take the vest off." He orders, brandishing his gun at Spencer. "I want to see you."

Don't you dare.

"I don't have any weapons." Spencer tries, but Cassandra knows it won't work. There's no reasoning with him. "The Higher Authority doesn't authorize it for technicians."

"Take it off!"

Watching her friend strip himself of protection is a nightmare in and of itself.

"Come closer." He orders once Spencer is down to his striped button-up and brown tie, no protective vest in sight. "I want to see your hands at all times."

Spencer carefully steps closer until there's only about an inch of space between them. Concern is clear in his eyes as he chances a few glances at her, but otherwise his face stays impassive, as if he doesn't know her at all.

"Sit across from me." He orders, keeping the gun aimed at him until he carefully sits down, and then he shoves Cassandra down into the aisle so that he can sit right across from Spencer. Like this, she's right next to Elle, and she has a perfect view of what Spencer is going to do as Ted sticks his scarred arm out into the aisle.

Spencer begins opening an alcohol pad, his hands shaking as he does so.

"Why are you so nervous?"

"I told you. I'm not used to being around guns." He answers softly, looking up at the gun in Ted's hands nervously before he refocuses on his work. He gets the pad opened, carefully wiping at a section of Ted's arm that hasn't been cut into already.

"This is going to probably sting a little bit." He warns, pulling the scalpel out of his kit. Ted just nods, tears in his eyes. Cassandra can't imagine how overwhelmed he must feel, thinking that he's finally getting it out of his arm, even though there's nothing there. How many different ways did he attempt getting it out by himself?

How lonely it must feel to be inside of his head.

Ted looks away with a grimace as Spencer makes the cut, but Cassandra is fascinated with the clinical way he does it, and how straight his line is. If he ever wanted to be a surgeon, he would be amazing at it. After a moment, he starts feeling around in the cut, while Ted's eyes widen with excitement as he watches.

He doesn't even seem to feel pain, more focused on getting what he's needed.

When Spencer slowly and carefully pulls a bloodied chip out of his arm, Cassandra could cry. She's not sure how he just managed to pull that off, all she knows is that he's a godsend. A miracle. The best person she knows.

Honestly, she could kiss him.

"I knew it." Ted whispers. "I knew it. I knew it."

For just one second, while Ted wipes at his eyes, Cassandra gives Spencer a smile.

Spencer returns it before he's standing, trying to leave the train. "I've gotta go to the Higher Authority, I was–"

"Not yet!" Ted shouts, and Spencer slowly sinks back into his seat. Ted aims his gun right at Spencer's heart, his eyes dark. "Turn it on. Turn the chip on."

"Excuse me?"

"Turn it on, or I pull the trigger."

Get his focus back.

"He can't." Cassandra blurts, relieved when he turns the gun to face her again. "You were right. I do put them in people. I–I'm a surgeon for the Higher Authority, that's why I was on the train today." She's expecting the backhand she receives, and she doesn't let it stop her from speaking, swallowing down blood as she does so. Her lip is bleeding, and the hit caused her to bite down on her tongue, but she ignores the pain and pushes on. "It's not implanted in you anymore, so it doesn't work. He can't turn it on."

"She's right." Spencer says. "The chip derives its power from tiny electrical impulses fired between neurons. It has to be in your skin to work."

When Ted looks at her, she nods, and he sighs loudly.

"I–I really have to go." Spencer tries to leave again, but Ted isn't having it.

"Sit down! You're not going anywhere."

He slowly backs away from them, although he walks backward and keeps his gun aimed in their direction. He waves for Cassandra to move closer to Spencer, and she ends up curled on the floor next to his seat while Ted sits across from them. Eventually he lowers his guard enough to not have the gun aimed at him, instead staring at the phone. Slowly, carefully, Cassandra allows her hand to slide on the floor until she reaches Spencer's ankle, where she begins tapping.

She keeps her eyes on Ted the entire time, making sure he doesn't look in their direction.

When the phone rings, she pulls her hand back.

"It's probably the Higher Authority." Spencer points out, trying to get Ted to answer it. Ted looks over, blinking as if he's just waking up. "I told you I have protocols to follow. I was supposed to go right back out there. I–I have rules. You want me to stay, I'm obviously going to stay. But, I mean, you're going to be the one that has to explain it to the man."

"Why can't you all just leave me alone?"

"Leave you alone?" Josh scoffs, standing up.

"Stay out of this." Spencer tries, but Josh shakes his head.

"No! The government does watch us. You got microwaves and satellites. I'm with you, man."

"Do not agitate him." Spencer grits out.

"Screw you!"

"Dr. Bryar, answer the phone." Spencer encourages, turning back to Ted.

"My old man used to have tracking devices in his cars. He said it was for theft, but it's so he could find out where I go! And what about personal recordings and televisions? You don't think someone's monitoring everything you watch? You know how many patents are issued for devices to monitor people?"

If Cassandra ends up killed because of this moron, she's going to haunt the hell out of him and his entire bloodline.

"Look it up, man!" Josh continues.

"Josh, shut up." Cassandra begs, her head pounding. There's too much going on, and Cassandra feels completely out of control. "Ted, he has no idea what he's talking about. There's nothing inside of you. No one is tracking you."

"Answer the phone." Elle tells him.

"Stop. This isn't going to help." Linda stands up, trying to get Josh back in his seat, but he pushes her away.

"What the hell do you know?"

"Ted, he doesn't know what he's talking about. He's just a kid."

"Who are you calling a kid?" He snaps at Linda, and Cassandra groans loudly.

"Josh, sit down!" Elle orders.

"Oh, now you're going to tell me what to do? He'd only have one gun if you weren't here! I'm with you, man!"

"And yet you're antagonizing him." Cassandra snaps, shaking her head.

"Answer the phone, Dr. Bryar. It's the Higher Authority."

Josh takes a step forward, and Ted finally pulls the trigger. Cassandra jumps, watching as Linda slowly puts a hand to her stomach, blood seeping through her tan sweater.

"Teddy?" She asks in disbelief.

"Oh, damn. Damn!" Josh whimpers, helping her sink to the ground. She lands on top of him.

"Josh, put your hand over the wound and press down." Cassandra orders, shouting to be heard over his crying. "Josh, do it!"

Slowly, Ted moves to answer the phone. Spencer takes the opportunity to move to Linda, and while Cassandra wants to help them, she needs to hear this phone call. She needs to know what to do next.

"What?" He breathes into the phone. A pause, and then: "I'm tired. I've been fighting you for so long. I said it all ends today. Me, these agents–it all ends today."

He hangs up the phone, and Cassandra knows what needs to be done. Now it's just a matter of timing.

"Ted . . ." Elle speaks up after he's sat back down. He's rocking himself. In the background, the phone rings. "No one on this train is an agent but me. No one else. I'm the only one. You can let everybody else go."

Ted shakes his head, his rocking picking up pace.

"Dr. Bryar, we need to get this woman help." Spencer tells him, still crouched over her.

"Who's going to help me?" He asks, his voice choked up.

"The higher authorities can help you." Spencer says. "They're not what you think. They're not the enemy. They can help you, Dr. Bryar."

When he stands up, it's to turn and shoot the phone. The gunshot rings out as flares fly from the phone and it soon begins to smoke. Cassandra coughs, turning away from it as even more dread fills her. Spencer makes eye contact with her for a split second.

"Not anymore."

"It's not gone." Ted speaks up suddenly, staring forward. He's not talking to them. "You said when the chip came out, it would go away. I–I still hear it. But you said it was the only one, Leo. I can still . . . feel the buzzing, the burning."

"Dr. Bryar."

"What?" He turns to face Spencer, one hand scratching at his ear.

"Reid!" Elle gasps, but Spencer shakes his head.

"It's alright, Elle."

Well, there goes the idea that he isn't an agent.

"Is there another one?" Ted shouts, standing up with his gun aimed at Spencer, who huffs out a laugh.

"You know there isn't. If there were, Leo would've told you."

"Make it stop!" Ted's hands fly up to his ears, even the one holding the gun.

"I know what it's like." Spencer tells him.

"Make it stop!"

"I know what the voices are like. The voices, they won't stop. They've been talking to you since you were a child."

"You're lying to me."

"That's Leo speaking." Spencer laughs again. "That's not even Dr. Bryar." Spencer shifts his gaze ever so slightly: "Why don't you let him speak for himself, Leo?"

Slowly, Ted follows Spencer's line of sight, his eyes widening.

"You . . . do you see him?" The gun gets lowered in favor of Ted pointing to the air next to him, where Spencer is talking.

"Yeah, he's right there." Spencer answers as if it's obvious. Ted looks amazed. "Why don't you let him make his own decisions? The voices, they helped you, right? That's where you get your ideas from. While the other kids were outside on the playground, you were inside reading, studying, learning."

He pulls himself to his feet as he talks. Cassandra is tense as she watches him, keeping her eyes on his gun, which thankfully stays pointed down and not at Spencer.

"The voices wouldn't stop. They–they helped you understand things that other people could never realize and then, as you grew older, it became almost a responsibility, right?"

Ted takes slow steps forward, mesmerized by the words coming out of Spencer's mouth. Cassandra wonders if he's ever felt so understood by another human being before.

"A responsibility to use that ability, to–to use your knowledge."

Ted exhales when he's right in front of Spencer, his shoulders dropping.

"String theory." He breathes out. "The theory of everything."

"Then M-theory encompassing all the strings, unifying the theories. You know, it's funny. Most people say that M-theory can never be proved, because the mathematical tools do not yet exist. But you see it, right? Am I right? You can see the different strings unifying the dimensions. The gravitational infinities canceling each other out. You–you see them, right, Dr. Bryar? You see them because you have the tools. Your mind is that tool."

"Shut up!" Ted turns to where 'Leo' is, shouting.

"And I have to believe that if–if you put your mind to it, you'll realize that only you can make Leo stop." Spencer continues. "You can make him stop by understanding him, by understanding that he is a liar, and he only wants bad things for you. I need to believe that, Dr. Bryar."

His eyes flicker away from Spencer's, his face darkening, and Cassandra acts before anyone else can.

As soon as he starts lifting his gun, she tackles him into a row of chairs, knocking the gun out of his hand. She hears Spencer moving, undoubtedly to grab the gun, but she keeps her focus on pulling Ted up with his hands behind his back, jerking when a gunshot sounds. When she looks over, Spencer is holding a gun . . . and so is the passenger wearing the suit. The one Cassandra never got a name of, who had been completely silent through this whole ordeal.

The one who apparently had a gun this entire time.

Ted slumps, and Cassandra carefully sets him back into the seat as Gideon rushes onto the train. His eyes search frantically, relief filling him when he sees Elle, Spencer and Cassandra still standing. Still alive.

"We need an ambulance." Spencer tells him, rushing forward to grab the gun from the man before he moves to help Cassandra.

"I had to." The man chokes out. "He was going to kill us. I had to. God forgive me."

"You didn't kill him." Cassandra assures him, knowing that shock is setting in. She remembers in full detail the first time she shot a human being: it's never easy, even when you're protecting people. "He's going to be just fine. We're going to get him help."

"You know you're not a medical doctor, right?" Cassandra can't help but tease Spencer, amused when he ducks his head, a blush covering his cheeks. She's sitting at the edge of an ambulance, having been dragged over to it by Spencer. He hasn't let her move either, blocking her every time she tries. "I'm fine."

"You were hit how many times?" He arches an eyebrow at her, smirking when she shuts up. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"It would've been way worse if you hadn't come in." She admits, frowning to herself. Adrenaline is wearing off, and now she just feels tired. She came close to death, and while she's sure she'll be able to joke about it soon, for now it's a little too close to home. "How did you pull off that little trick with the chip?"

"Magic." He grins at her, smoothing a butterfly bandage over one of the cuts on her cheek. The paramedics on scene are spread thin, and he apparently isn't patient enough to wait for someone to come check her out, choosing to do it himself. He's gentle as he cleans the cuts and covers them up, and she finds herself studying him, amazed at his multitudes.

"Well, you'll have to show me some time." She makes him promise, smiling to herself. He's stupidly charming, with his magic and his knowledge and that cute little smile he makes when he's pleased with himself. Cassandra is glad to have transferred, if only to have met him.

"Morse code was smart." He blurts out suddenly, and she hums, pleased that he had gotten what she was doing when she tapped his ankle. It hadn't played out the way she expected, but it's good to know that she can use that method of communication with him in the future if she ever has to. --. ..- -. Gun. Her way of telling him that she had hers, and where she had it. "Why didn't you shoot him? I mean, I'm glad you didn't, but I'm sure you had a few opportunities."

"He's ill." She says slowly, sighing. "It's not physical, so people are happy to label him crazy and move on, but . . . I don't know. I just felt bad for him. He wasn't in control, and that has to be terrifying. So I held off. I was prepared to at the end, though. I wouldn't have gone for a kill shot, but if he tried to hurt you, I would've shot him."

She's absolutely certain about that, and she feels no remorse for it. If someone comes after her team in the future, she plans to make them regret it.

"Doc, what's the prognosis?" Derek calls out, laying a hand on her shoulder and studying her closely. He'd been with Ted, making sure that he was getting the care he needed–physical and psychological.

"I'm fine." Cassandra answers at the same time as Reid says, "she'll live."

They blink at each other, surprised, while Derek barks out a laugh.

"He was definitely talking to me." Cassandra tells him, narrowing her eyes when Spencer shakes his head.

"No way. You're the patient, I'm the doctor."

"In your dreams." She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "There's no–"

"Okay, okay, relax." Derek snorts, shaking his head. "You're both super genius doctors. Happy now?"

"Thrilled."

"Ecstatic."

"Christ." Derek pinches his nose when they both answer in a deadpan tone, sharing a grin with each other over annoying him. "Yeah, you're clearly fine, Grey. Reid–you ever take your vest off like that again, I'll have your head. Grey, no more public transportation. Copy?"

"Got it." Spencer mumbles, rolling his eyes when Derek walks away. "Dad."

Derek flips them off behind his back, and they laugh for a few seconds before it tapers off. Spencer coughs, taking a small step back.

"Well, you should be good. Um, make sure to keep the cuts clean and–"

"I know, Spence." Cassandra rolls her eyes good-naturedly, fondness filling her. "Hey, um, feel free to say no but . . . can I give you a hug?"

Spencer nods, a small smile forming on his face, and she's quick to step into his space before he can change his mind. It quickly hits her just how badly she needed this hug. She's a head shorter than him, so her head fits perfectly into his shoulder, and she buries it there and forces herself to breathe. Slowly, his hands wrap around her waist, and she exhales, the weight of the day not feeling so unbearable.

He doesn't pull away until she does, giving her a kind smile as she brushes her hands under her eyes, giving him a sheepish smile back.

"Thanks." She says softly, already missing the comfort but knowing she can't hug him forever. "For . . . all of it. Saving my life."

"Don't mention it." He grins, clearly proud of himself. He should be. "Hey, uh, do you want me to come with you to the hospital?"

"I'd like that. But I'm not taking an ambulance. We can drive."

He nods, digging around in his pocket until he finds a quarter. He shows her his trick over and over again, and she never stops finding it cool, gushing about how brilliant he is as he leads her to Hotch, who gives her a warm smile and helps her into the back seat. The help is unnecessary, but she doesn't mention it, just giving Elle a smile when she finds her already sitting back there. She's got a matching bandage on her cheek, although she's less injured than Cassandra. She's glad for it. If she had to, she would take the brunt of his anger again.

"Hey, I figured you'd want this." Elle holds out her copy of Return of the King while Spencer slides in next to her, and Cassandra gasps, instantly pulling it close to her chest. She's stripped down to her tank top, and so she's not worried about getting blood on it.

"Thank you so much." She breathes out, kicking herself for forgetting about it. She could've lost it forever. That would've killed her. Elle just nods, sinking back in her seat, but Cassandra keeps talking.

"So much for going to the club." She jokes lightly, relieved when Elle laughs in response.

"Hmm, as soon as we're cleared, we should go."

"Deal." The two of them shake hands, sharing an amused smile, and Cassandra knows that she's found a friend for life in Elle Greenaway.

authors note
this is one of my favorite episodes purely bc it's spencer centric. i love when he does random things to prove how smart he is. like ofc you should do a magic trick to trick an unsub 😍😍

anyway. i love them so much.

one thing about my OC's is that they love lord of the rings. what can i say? they have taste

i spent so many hours writing this and now my brain feels fried. i don't have thoughts anymore. i do want to say that i love you all for the love you're showing this fic so far 🤍 you're all so amazing and i look forward to reading your comments every time