ABLOCATE ▇▇▇▇ VOLUME ONE
━━ ❛ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒊𝒏 ❜

chapter no. 021!

❝ KEEP AN EYE ON ME. ❞
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     THE NIGHTTIME BROUGHT UPON NOTHING BUT AN ARRAY OF TOSSING AND TURNING. Despite the soft pitter-patter of rain droplets crawling down the hotel windows and the peacefulness that came with them, Cara couldn't help but be on high alert. Every inch of her was on edge, and she felt like there were dozens of eyes watching every move she made— watching every breath she took.

     The paranoia and sleepless nights that occurred daily in Quantico were repeating themselves in Kansas City, and an all too familiar sensation of consummate fear was weaving its way into her nervous system. It was toxic and debilitating.

     So, she swam through the usual cycle of looking out the window, peering through the peephole in the door, making coffee, and pacing. Only this time, she knew she was a sitting duck.

     If Dillion— Scott— Detective Miller— whatever the hell his name was— wanted to talk privately, he could easily find out from his captain where she and the team were staying. He could show up at any minute, and that thought paralyzed Cara's mind.

     As the night progressed, he never once showed his face, but it didn't ease the trepidation swirling around in the pit of her stomach. Nor did it ease the chaos consuming her mind throughout the night and morning. Not a second wasn't spent over-analyzing and dissecting every move she'd made since the deal between her and Dillion Richards was ruined by Owen.

     Cara was re-examining every second that'd passed over the last five years and the most recent twenty-four hours.

     How had this happened?

     How was Blake's brother the same man Cara negotiated with for months on end?

     How did he work for a local law firm in New Jersey if, according to Blake, he's lived in Kansas City his entire life? Was he a pawn or a contractor? How did he get roped into the trafficking business, and when did he become Dillion Richards?

     Was Cara ordered to make a deal with that law firm for a reason she was unaware of? Was Scott Miller in contact with anyone from the Red Scorpions?

     And who, exactly, was Scott Miller, and what did he know?

     An abundance of questions muddied her mind and pulled her attention away from the BAU's current case. Even as she rode with Morgan, Spencer, JJ, and Blake to the Patterson's house, the Unsub's most recent victims killed last night, her mind was elsewhere.

     It wasn't until Cara and Blake were waiting for Spencer outside of the Pattersons' house that Cara finally snapped out of her silent stance. Meanwhile, Morgan and JJ were inside inspecting the crime scene.

     "Gil and Renee Patterson were good, hard-working people. He was a bank manager; she was a nurse," Spencer called, walking down the front porch and toward the two women.

     "If all these victims are targets, then what's the connection?" Blake asked, and Cara glanced at her, taking note of the slight facial similarities she and her brother shared. Inhaling quietly, Cara turned her gaze back to Spencer, who was already staring at her.

     "Maybe they're not targets. Maybe they're surrogates," he proposed, maintaining steady eye contact.

     The urge to turn around and run away itched at her fingertips when Cara saw a familiar two-faced detective making his way toward them.

     "For who?" she asked, clearing her throat.

     Before either Spencer or Blake could respond, Scott inserted himself into the conversation. "So, um, apparently, a neighbor found the bodies when she came by and saw the door was ajar," he said, gesturing to the matte mahogany front door. Spencer glanced back at it. Turning his body back to face Blake and Cara, Scott caught the blonde's stare.

     Almost immediately, Cara looked at the front door, keeping her composure indifferent.

     "Do the Pattersons have any next of kin? We're gonna need to talk to them," Blake replied, tilting her head and sliding her hands into her coat pockets.

     "Yeah, they do," Scott answered, looking at his notepad. "They have a daughter named Laurie. She's a senior at the University of Missouri."

     Just the sound of his voice triggered a flood of memories Cara had long forgotten, and she fought the urge to visibly tense. In an attempt to distract herself and focus on something else, she watched the other police officers wandering around.

     "All right, I'll go and call Hotch and Rossi. Tell them what we know and see if they've got anything," Blake sighed, giving the three a tight-lipped smile before heading back to the car.

     Feeling a set of eyes land on her, Cara glanced at the two men.

     "We should go inside and tell Morgan and JJ," Spencer said.

     Nodding slightly, Cara began walking toward the house with him until a voice caused them to pause.

     "Actually," Scott began, his body spinning to face the pair. "I was hoping I could speak with Agent Valentine for a moment." His statement caused every nerve in her body to freeze, and Cara struggled to maintain her emotionless exterior, for fear was snaking its way into her system again.

     Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Spencer narrowing his eyes at Blake's brother. The corner of his lips was tugging downward, and his posture was straightened. He was getting protective. She recognized those behavioral cues well.

     Turning to Spencer, Cara darted her eyes in between his, hoping her stare would help him relax. Instead, all it did was cause him to give her a conflicted expression.

     "I'll be inside in a moment," she muttered, reaching over and squeezing his arm. Her stomach twisted when she felt him relax under her touch. She quickly let go. Reluctantly, Spencer nodded and walked inside, shooting her a small smile before disappearing.

     Once he was out of sight, Cara moved her focus to Scott.

     Without a word, he grabbed onto the sleeve of her coat and pulled her to the right side of the house, where nobody was or could see them.

     As soon as they were out of sight and earshot, she yanked her arm from his grasp. Reaching for her back pocket, she remembered that she left her phone in the car. No one at the F.B.I. could listen.

     "Cara Valentine, is it?" Scott hissed, raising an eyebrow.

     Cara snapped her head up. "Scott Miller?" she fired back, stepping forward.

     His gaze flickered down to her lips and back up to her eyes as she got closer, only stopping once there were less than a few inches separating them. "I know... it's tempting," she whispered, intentionally darting her eyes to his lips. "No one's watching... you could easily finish what we started the first time we met." Without breaking eye contact, she placed a hand on his chest and sprawled her fingers out. Leaning forward, she smirked and bit on her bottom lip while his eyes fluttered shut.

     When it comes to seduction, men are such suckers for it.

     Their noses brushed, and she lowered her eyes an inch, tilting her chin up and purposefully grazing her lips against his. Less than a second passed by when she felt his hand wrap around her waist.

     "Or," she mumbled, moving her hand and placing it on his arm, "you could tell me what I need to know." Taking a step back, she shoved his shoulder, and he stumbled back.

     Sighing, he ran a hand over his face and opened his eyes. "If this is about Dillion Richards... he doesn't exist," he stated, clearing his throat.

     "No shit," she deadpanned, waiting for him to give a real answer.

     Scott ran his eyes up and down her figure, eventually meeting her glare. "I was undercover," he admitted after he realized that she wasn't taking his ludicrous response. "Since you're F.B.I., I assume you were undercover as well."

     Cara didn't confirm or deny his assumption. "Why were you undercover?" she asked bluntly.

     "Before I was in homicide, I worked in the narcotics division," Scott started, inhaling deeply. "An undercover cop reported that a gang from British Columbia, the Red Scorpions, was actively working in Missouri and trafficking illegal drugs to select corporate businesses. Another undercover cop who was working in one of those businesses transferred to a location in New Jersey for a promotion. After a month of living there, someone found out he was undercover and killed him. His death was staged to look like an overdose, and no one suspected a thing. On his laptop, plans and searches dating back months showed that he'd been planning to kill himself for a while, but we knew it was staged. However, we couldn't prove it. As his replacement, so we could still work on getting evidence on the Red Scorpions and their business and prove that the other cop hadn't killed himself, they sent me. I got a job at the same company, a high-paying position, and eventually got connected to a coworker who knew about the trafficking and was in on it. He got me involved."

     "So, when that employee informed you that a woman named Zari Wilkinson, an affiliate of the Red Scorpions, wanted to make you an offer, you took it and went to Canada," Cara concluded.

     Every word she'd just heard was the truth. Scott didn't lie once. It was clear by his syntax and body language that he didn't know anything else, which meant that this reunion was simply a coincidence. On his end, at the very least.

     On the Red Scorpions' end, it was hazy. Either they included Blake in the code as a simple taunt to rile up the BAU team, or there was more to it than just Scott's undercover identity. They mentioned Blake specifically, and that fact wouldn't slip Cara's mind. Everything they do is done with purpose— with meaning. There's always a hidden message. She'd been taught that her entire life. She had lived and operated with that mindset for over a decade.

     But what if that was what the Red Scorpions were expecting from her— that she would look at this the way she was trained to and not in the way that they meant it? That she would break it down and obsess over its meaning for so long that their endgame could take place without her noticing or realizing it until it was too late?

     No one to save Alex from evil. NOT SAFE.

     If Cara were to look at the code as a whole rather than analyzing the fine print, it simply meant that she was not safe from them. She never would be. By using Alex's name for the A, the message translated to the fact that Cara would always have active connections to past dealers, handlers, clients, and competitors, such as Alex's brother. Scott Miller was living proof that there were still loose ends— ways of finding out where she was.

     Furrowing his brows, Scott glanced at the ground. Cara watched him mentally put together the puzzle pieces.

     "Before you say anything," she said, her hushed tone causing him to look up. "The F.B.I. knows who I am, and there's no reason why they need to know about Dillion Richards. What happened between us in the past stays there. You are not to say a word to anybody. Do I make myself clear?" Her words were menacing and stone-cold.

     Scott blanched and apprehensively nodded.

     "If you tell anyone that I was here, in Kansas City, attempt to get in contact with the Red Scorpions, or tell anyone about our history— I will not hesitate to expose you to your family for the things you did while you were undercover. The reputation you crafted for Dillion Richards was gruesome, and I don't believe you want those you care about to know how far you went to be convincing. I don't care if Blake is my colleague. If you breathe a word, I will see to it that you are ruined," she hissed, her index finger pressed harshly into his chest.

     "As long you don't say a word, I won't either," he swore, his face slowly regaining its color.

     "Good. I'm glad we had this talk, Scottie," she sighed, dropping the intimidating stance she'd taken like it meant nothing. He knew better, though. She patted his arm and walked away, ready to close this case and get the hell out of Kansas.

────

    "M.O.'S THE EXACT SAME," JJ MENTIONED, NODDING TOWARD THE DEAD MAN LYING SIDEWAYS ON THE CARPET OF THE LIVING ROOM. As she spoke, an EMT rolled a gurney out of the room.

     Morgan nodded from where he was crouched on the floor, staring up at her. "Women's underwear, violent manual overkill. It's definitely our guy," he stated, leaning back on his heels.

     "But now he's accelerating," JJ pointed out, her eyes wandering around the room.

     "And he's getting bolder. He's never broken into a home before," Morgan noted, standing as his phone began to ring. "Hey, what you got, Mama?" he answered, putting the call on speaker when Spencer entered the room.

     Turning her head, JJ gave him a confused look. Cara wasn't with him. Usually, whenever the two were sent somewhere together, they didn't separate. So, where was she?

     In response to her questioning stare, Spencer shook his head. "Detective Miller wanted to talk to her," he mumbled.

     At that response, JJ's eyebrows rose, and she couldn't help but notice how tense his posture was. Clearly, the idea of Cara and Blake's brother talking bothered him.

     "So it turns out our dead jogger David Morrison bounced around as a substitute English teacher before he published his first book. Four years ago, he worked for a week at Jefferson High School, and that is the same school that Tommy Barnes and Melissa Hawthorne went to," Penelope announced, her voice causing Spencer to glance at Morgan, who was staring at the ground.

     "The Pattersons have a daughter," JJ remembered, straightening out her posture.

     Spencer nodded. "Laurie."

     Glancing between the two, Morgan soon brought his gaze back to his phone. "Garcia, where did Laurie Patterson go to high school?" he asked, clearing his throat.

     The sound of keyboard keys clicking answered him momentarily until the analyst said, "That would be... Jefferson."

     "And when did she graduate?"

     "Um..." Penelope hummed on the other end before inhaling deeply, "four years ago."

     Furrowing her brows together slightly, JJ stuffed her hands into the pockets of her coat. "So she was there at the same time Morrison was," she concluded. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Spencer turn his head. He was looking toward the front door.

     "All right, I'll call Hotch. We need to give the profile." Morgan ended the call and watched with curious eyes as Spencer left the room without a word. "Everything okay with Reid?" he asked JJ, nodding to where the genius had been standing.

     JJ shrugged. "Detective Miller wanted to speak to Cara. I don't think he's thrilled about that."

     Raising an eyebrow, Morgan's head tilted upward. "Do you think she's able to tell?" he wondered out loud.

     "What? That Spence feels something for her? I don't even think he's able to tell that he does," JJ responded, crossing her arms.

     Morgan shrugged. "I think Pretty Boy's more aware than we may give him credit for," he said, tucking his phone into his jacket pocket.

     Down the hall, Spencer was making his way to the front door right as Cara was bounding up the porch steps. At the sight of her straight blonde hair, the corners of his lips innately tugged upright. "Hey," he called, and his voice caused her to look up. "What'd Detective Miller want to talk to you about?"

     Cara stopped when the two met in the hallway, her hands resting comfortably in her coat pockets. "He wanted to introduce himself properly," she said neutrally; her tone of voice and body language in no way suggested that she was lying.

     Then again, she was an expert at the art of lying and could lie straight to any of their faces without them even realizing it. Spencer shook his head slightly at that thought. Cara wouldn't lie to him, right? They'd become friends, or at least they had in his eyes. And why was he beginning to question her now when he hadn't before?

     Noticing the conflicted expression sliding onto his face, Cara quickly reached over and squeezed his arm for the second time. She couldn't have him growing suspicious of her or Scott. Everything needed to carry on as usual.

     "Your posture straightened, and you became tense earlier. I noticed." Her words made him freeze. "I... can appreciate you becoming protective of me," she said roughly, forcing the foreign words out of her mouth. She wasn't one to initiate conversations such as this; it made her uncomfortable, but if she wanted to maintain the thin wall of trust she'd established with Spencer, she had to say this. "However, I can take care of myself. I have for a very long time. Detective Miller just wanted to introduce himself."

     Spencer quickly nodded, clearing his throat. "Yeah, of course. I just, uh, I worry," he stammered, moving his focus to the hand wrapped around his arm.

     The moment his head lowered, Cara was quick to remove her hand and slip it back into her pocket.

     "Don't," she warned, her line of sight darting to Morgan and JJ's approaching figures.

     "Don't what?" Spencer asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

     Without answering or meeting his perplexed stare, Cara turned her attention to the other two.

     "It's time to give the profile," Morgan interrupted, giving her a slight nod of the head.

     In response, Cara followed JJ out of the house, leaving behind a confused Spencer and Morgan, who was darting his eyes in between the pair, slowly realizing he'd walked into something he perhaps shouldn't have.

────

     NO ONE TO SAVE ALEX FROM EVIL. Dillion Richards. Scott Miller. The Red Scorpions. Cara Valentine. She was connected to all of it. She was at the very center of the chessboard, and it was her turn to make a move, but she couldn't.

     What move could she make?

     What was left that would maintain the security of safety she was under?

     What direction was left to go in if every exit was blocked by another connection— another sign from them that she wasn't safe?

     They were keeping an eye on her, one way or another.

     Cara was on high alert every second of every day, and that fact had not changed since the moment she first left the Vancouver Precinct. Silent eyes were watching her every move, and she was certain of that. What she wasn't certain of was how long it would be before they made contact.

     Members of the Red Scorpions were still free and on the loose, and the Founding Fathers were most certainly not dead. So, in Cara's mind, someone had to be watching or following her. It only made sense. She betrayed them— betrayed the people who aided in keeping her identity hidden and maintaining her safety for years; the people she dedicated almost two decades of her life to and relentlessly worked for. She spent years proving her worth and working up the chain of command, earning everyone's trust and passing every test thrown her way.

     Months ago, not a soul would have questioned Cara's loyalty to the Red Scorpions. She'd done so many things in the name of the gang and proven herself, even when she didn't have to or was forced to. She went above and beyond to be the best trafficker, liar, negotiator, and undercover businesswoman in the drug trafficking business. Questioning her loyalty would have been out of the picture entirely. No one would ever dare to think she would, yet she proved them wrong. She betrayed everyone. She opened my mouth, and that was enough to sign her death warrant.

     Cara was now a wanted woman, as dramatic as it sounded. She turned into her father— the original sin of the Red Scorpions— the first member to betray the gang. There was no way she was going to get away with what she'd done scot-free.

     "Valentine," a voice called, and she blinked, turning her deadset gaze away from the evidence boards. Hotch stood behind her with a stoic expression, hands resting comfortably by his side, yet his posture was straight and poised. Cara nodded, wordlessly signaling that she was listening. "I want you to give the profile."

     At his words, she nodded automatically. "May I ask why?"

     Hotch rolled back his shoulders. "This is your third case with the team. I want to see what you've learned and allow you to take charge," he replied, and she held restrained from narrowing her eyes. His words appeared genuine in presentation, and his body language indicated he was forthright. Yet she couldn't help but feel the slightest bit apprehensive. "I've already told the rest of the team. We're waiting for you to start."

     Breathing in quietly, Cara nodded and exited the conference room, entering the main floor where the Kansas City PD and team were waiting for the profile presentation to commence.

     Cara's eyes briefly met with JJ's, who gave her a small smile of encouragement. Cara only nodded, passing by her and going to stand next to Blake.

     Eight seconds later, Hotch joined and stood on the other side of Blake.

     Roaming her eyes across the sea of bored yet attentive expressions, Cara straightened her posture. You can do this. "Based on his victims and local demographics, we believe we're looking for a caucasian male in his late teens to early twenties. He's a sadist with rage issues, which accounts for the high level of violence in each of his kills," she started.

     "All five of his victims are in some way connected to Jefferson High School," Morgan went on.

     Out of the corner of her eye, Cara saw JJ nod. "Which leads us to believe he's either a former student or employee," she added.

     "Why former?" Scott interrupted, his eyebrows furrowed as he stopped writing on his notepad.

     Keeping her face blank, Cara swiveled her line of sight to him. "Because we also think he has a drug problem," she responded, and he tensed. "The addiction plus his anger issues means that he lacks the social skills required to stay in school or hold down a steady job."

     "Because brute force and humiliation are the hallmarks of his M.O., we believe his kills are somehow rooted in revenge," Hotch said.

     The rest of the team continued discussing the profile while Cara's stare continuously made its way over to Scott. She couldn't look away. His very presence set her on edge as if every move could be her last.

     This was her paranoia talking.

     The way her mind was distorting the events of the past seventeen hours, eight minutes, and two seconds was fallacious. She was creating a sphere of paranoia and aggression to bubble herself in, and it was slowly suffocating her. An ever-consuming fear loomed over her head and shoulders.

     Before moving to America to join the BAU, sure, she was petrified of what the Red Scorpions could and would do to her. Now, however, that fear was everpresent and taking over her consciousness.

     From day one, it'd been made clear that one mistake could take every single one of them down. They couldn't afford to make mistakes. At least not in this business.

     Nonetheless, Cara was caught making a mistake on camera— opening her mouth and talking when she should've stuck to taunting and mocking them. But was it a mistake— betraying the people who'd kept her alive and hidden for years? The ones who stole back her father?

     "So why would this guy wait a whole year after his first murders?" The sound of Scott's voice caused Cara to blink, and she snapped her eyes to him. All the overthinking clouding her mind vanished.

     Before anyone on the team could answer, she replied, "We think he may have been incarcerated."

     JJ nodded again. "So you should be looking at violent offenders or any younger ex-cons you may be familiar with."

     "We think his first kills were experiments of sorts. He was just getting a taste for it," Rossi said.

      "Tommy Barnes and Melissa Hawthorne had more defensive wounds than any of his other victims. They clearly put up a fight. It's not easy to blitz attack two people at once," Cara pointed out, doing her best to re-focus on the case.

     Morgan leaned back on the desk he was balancing on. "So whether he was locked up or not, he probably took a year off to perfect his craft to make sure that never happened again."

     "He's physically fit and probably works out a lot, so he may frequent inexpensive gyms or health clubs," Blake theorized, rolling back her shoulders as she made eye contact with her brother.

     Sliding off the desk he sat on, Rossi took a step forward. "And don't forget, this guy used his bare hands to kill his victims. He will not be easily deterred," he reminded everyone.

     Cara nodded. "So proceed with caution. As his grip on reality continues to fade, he'll become more dangerous."

────

     "WE SHOULD CROSS-CHECK OUR LIST OF RECENTLY RELEASED EX-CONS AGAIN," JJ said, sitting on the desk where Rossi once was as the police officers dispersed.

     Hotch sighed and shook his head. "Garcia and I have been over it twice. Nobody matches the profile."

     Right as the analyst's name was mentioned, Morgan's phone began to ring. Rolling back on his right foot, he pulled out his phone "Hey, baby girl, you got the whole crew, go ahead," he greeted, putting the woman on speaker.

     "Okay, here's some skinny on Jefferson High. Really great football team, state champs two years in a row— go, Bulldogs! The only notable thing that has happened at that high school in the last ten years besides the murder of Tommy Barnes and Melissa Hawthorne is the death of another student, Riley Wilson, four years ago. Sunnydale. Information streaming to your tablets now," Penelope announced, and Cara glanced down at the tablet in her hands.

     "He wrapped his car around a telephone pole," Blake murmured, swiping through the photos on her tablet.

     Cara swiped through the various photos, head tilted. She didn't bother to glance up when Spencer peered over her shoulder.

     "Yeah. There was a lot of speculation it was a suicide. Tox report was clean. He was totally sober."

     Tapping on the screen, Cara brought up the toxicology report, causing Spencer to lean in closer, his eyes scanning over the report. A small smirk almost tugged at the corners of her lips when she noticed how concentrated he was, subconsciously mouthing the words to himself. It was winsome, in a sense.

     Before he had a chance to veer his gaze and notice her staring, Cara swept her eyes down.

     "He was a senior and got straight "A"s. Nothing in his disciplinary file," Rossi mentioned.

     "He was at Jefferson the same time as David Morrison and Laurie Patterson," Spencer suddenly said, looking at the rest of the team.

     Wasting no time, Hotch cleared his throat. "Garcia, we need a list of every student and employee at Jefferson while Riley Wilson was a student."

     "Parents and family members, too, Garcia," Morgan added, nodding at Hotch as they made eye contact.

     "Compiling that list now. It is a lot of names. I will hit you back asap."

────

     FLIPPING THROUGH THE CASE FILES ON HER TABLET, CARA INAUDIBLY SIGHED AND FELT A WAVE OF BOREDOM HIT HER. The past hour had been incredibly dull as JJ, Morgan, and Spencer went over the profile while she repeatedly flipped through the case files, drinking her fourth cup of coffee for the day. Hotch, Rossi, and Blake were going over the list Penelope sent over and dividing it up so the Kansas City PD would do half and the team would cover the rest.

     A long evening was ahead of everyone. There were dozens of names they had to go through and eliminate from the suspect pool, and Cara was growing impatient, waiting for the team's half of the list. They kept running over everything they knew and had and went over every plausible theory, but with no one as a suspect, there wasn't much to do until they began eliminating names.

     JJ and Cara had agreed to work together—JJ would go through five names, and then Cara would go through the next five. Neither of them wanted to go over names by midnight, so they figured working off and on the list would be helpful. Also, it would decrease the probability of them burning out halfway through.

     "All right, everyone," Blake said, stepping toward the long conference table. All eyes flashed to her. "Here's the list of names." She pushed a folder across the table, and Spencer was quick to grab it.

     Cara slid her rolling chair closer and leaned over to get a look at what they were working with. Originally, she predicted there would be perhaps six to seven sheets of paper littered with names, but for once, she was wrong.

     "Ah, hell," she grumbled, watching Spencer continue to flip through more and more pages. Her eyebrows rose at the never-ending page count.

     At her words, a slight smirk spread across Spencer's lips, and he glanced at her.

     "How many pages are there?" Morgan asked, twirling a pen in his hands.

     Spencer shrugged. "It's really not all that bad."

     At the same time, Cara said, "Too many."

     Darting his eyes between the pair, Morgan sighed. "Well, we'd better get started. Reid, you and Valentine can—"

     "No, no, no," JJ cut in, shaking her head. "Cara and I already agreed that we'd work together. Neither of us wants to be here until midnight."

     Cara nodded in agreement, pointing at her.

     Morgan rolled his eyes. "And you think we do?" he retorted, motioning to himself and Spencer.

     "No, but we'll get done quicker than you two will," Cara commented, allowing a smirk to break across her lips as both men narrowed their eyes.

     "You do know that I can—"

     "—read up to twenty-thousand words in a minute? Yeah, you might've mentioned that fact a couple of times before, but that doesn't matter. I've seen you and Morgan work together before, and not a lot of work gets done, per se," she mused, snorting at the offending expression that overtook Morgan's face.

     JJ nodded. "Exactly. By Cara and I working together, we'll get our half done before—"

     "Actually, Cara won't be working on our list tonight," Blake spoke up, sitting down in the free seat next to her.

     Furrowing her eyebrows slightly, Cara leaned forward. "Are you about to tell me that I can go back to the hotel and read?" she asked, keeping her tone neutral.

     Shaking her head, Blake chuckled. "No. All the cops are doubling up while they go and check out the names on their list and Scott wanted you to go with him," she explained, and Cara froze for the slightest second.

     Goddammit.

     Beside her, Spencer sat up and closed the file. The corners of his lips tugged downward into a frown.

     "That must have been some talk the two of you had outside the Pattersons if he's requesting for you to partner with him," JJ suggested, wearing a playful smile, and Cara blinked.

     "It sounds like someone has an admirer," Morgan chuckled, also grinning.

     Blinking once more, Cara pushed out of her seat and grabbed her coat off the back of it. "Am I correct in assuming he's already outside waiting?" she asked, ignoring the concerned stare Spencer was shooting her way.

     Blake nodded.

     Cara held back a sigh and silently exited the room, not acknowledging the suggestive looks Morgan and JJ gave her or Spencer's mildly bewildered expression.

     As she exited the precinct, she nodded at Hotch and Rossi. Then, she walked out the front doors into the cold winter night. Despite the time only being five, the sun was already setting.

     "Hey," Scott called, and Cara looked to the left to see him peeking out through a car window. Here we go. Taking in a deep breath, she walked to the black Range Rover and yanked the passenger door open. Once inside, she shut the door. The window rolled up, and she watched Scott with suspicious eyes. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

     Scoffing, she rolled her eyes and buckled her seatbelt. "Trust me, you're not someone I'd take a picture of."

     Scott raised his brows. "Why? The mental picture too good to replace?"

     "Acting cocky doesn't make you attractive, Scottie," she sighed, eyeing the rearview mirror to ensure they weren't being followed as they left the precinct parking lot. She didn't like the idea of being in a confined area with the detective, even if she knew he wouldn't try anything and she was more than capable of protecting herself. He had ties to the Red Scorpions, albeit small ties and his presence kept her on edge.

     Two minutes and twenty-nine seconds of absolute silence passed by before he broke it. "Are you not even going to ask why I wanted you to be with me tonight?" he asked, looking to the right.

     "I assumed it was to keep an eye on me and make sure I wasn't telling your sister about your double life," Cara said bluntly, not bothering to meet his gaze.

     "That's partially true," he admitted, dragging his eyes back to the road ahead of them.

     Tilting her head his way, Cara kept her stare emotionless. "Why partially?"

     "Before this case ends, I wanted to get to know Cara Valentine. Have something to put to your name after you leave," Scott sighed.

     Biting back the urge to snort, she glanced back out the window. The last person she allowed herself to get close with was now in prison. So, saying she didn't open up to people was an understatement. She kept them at bay— never allowing them to get too far away but never allowing them to grow too close.

     "Was "the-woman-I-slept-with-five-years-ago-for-an-undercover-case-turned-out-to-be-an-F.B.I.-agent-that-works-with-my sister-who-I-haven't-talked-to-in-years-and-has-threatened-to-end-me" not enough to remember me by?"

     He shook his head. "No, not really," he remarked offhandedly.

     "That's too bad because that's all you're getting," she said, unbuckling her seat belt as the car rolled to a stop outside a one-story home. The lights were on in the front and the silhouette of someone moving around in the front room danced across the window blinds. When Cara and Scott hopped out of the car, the silhouette sat down on what was, assumably, a couch.

     "Looks like someone's home," Scott muttered, locking the car as he followed behind the blonde.

     "Who is it that we're questioning?" Cara called over her shoulder.

     "Charles Gates. He went to Jefferson High at the same time as Riley Wilson."

     Once Cara reached the porch, she tucked her hair behind her ears and knocked on the front door. Right when Scott made it to her side, the door opened. Cara reached for her badge. "Charles Gates?" she asked, quickly washing her eyes over the man who was only a few years younger than her from what she could tell. His honey-blonde hair was spiked and he wore a blue flannel over an old high school shirt with black sweats.

     He wasn't expecting company tonight.

     Looking from Cara to Scott, his eyes widened and he shifted his feet. "Yeah..." he replied slowly.

     "I'm SSA Cara Valentine, and this is Detective Miller from the Kansas City Police Department. We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions," she said, tucking away her badge.

     Four seconds of awkward silence passed before Charles nodded. "Um... sure."

     "May we come in?" Scott spoke up, raising a brow.

     "Yeah, of course. Um, I'm sorry about the mess," Charles apologized, stepping aside to let them in.

     "It's not a problem." Cara walked inside the dimly lit home, and Scott trailed behind. The door shut, and Charles gestured for them to follow him.

     The hallways were illuminated with a faint, saturated yellow color, and their shadows crept along the walls as they walked. Turning left, the three entered what Cara presumed was the living room. Boxes of cereal, video game controllers, and blankets decorated the floor and a paused video game was on full display on the TV. There was an ottoman and an armchair facing the TV, and Cara sat on the chair, leaving Scott to sit on the ottoman.

     Across from them, Charles lowered himself into another armchair near the right corner of the room, only a few feet away from the TV. "So, what's this about?" he asked, running his hands together anxiously.

     "We wanted to ask you some questions about an old classmate— Riley Wilson," Cara started, watching how Riley's name instantly caused him to tense up.

     "Yeah, I remember Riley," Charles nodded.

     Scott pulled out a notepad and leaned forward, clicking his pen. "Were you two friends?"

     Leaning back into the armchair, Charles rubbed his right thumb and middle finger together. "Yeah, we were good friends, actually," he answered.

     Lie.

     "I couldn't believe it when I heard he was dead. I mean, Riley didn't even drink, and I'd just seen him at school," Charles continued.

     He believes Riley was drunk when he crashed the car. Interesting.

     Straightening her posture, Cara kept her stare blank. "So, you two were pretty close," she stated loosely, and Charles glanced between her and Scott.

     "Yeah. I mean, he wasn't all that social. He kept to himself a lot," he mentioned.

     Before asking another question, Cara saw Scott glancing at her. "So, he was kind of a loner?" he concluded, writing something down.

     Casting her eyes to the notepad, Cara watched him write the words good friends and underlined them twice. Those two words didn't just bother her, and she wasn't the only one not buying the good-friends-with-the-dead-kid story.

     "Yeah. I mean, we hung out. We had a few classes together," Charles replied, proceeding to rub his right thumb and middle finger together again.

     Lie.

     All of a sudden, the feeling of eyes watching her returned. Cara turned her head to the right and looked around Scott's body to see a shadow lurking behind the painted glass doors that led into the hallway. However, before she could warn Scott or move, the figure dove through the closed door. The sound of glass shattering filled the room.

     "Liar!"

     In the blink of an eye, the figure had landed on Scott and collided their bodies into the armchair— effectively pushing it and Cara over. The world went by in a whirl of colors while Cara rolled across a bag of chips. The armchair landed on the ground with a crashing thud. She pressed her hands to the carpet and pushed up. When she got to her feet, she saw a hooded figure looming over Scott and slamming his head into the floor.

     Cara marched forward and pulled her leg up, kicking the bottom of her heel into the side of the person's head. The action caused them to stumble over their own feet; the hood slipped off to reveal a bald man who looked angry as hell. A dribble of blood was sliding down the side of his head and he snarled.

     Without a second thought, Cara leaned back as he swung for her head. Jumping up, she brought her leg up again and kicked him in the chest. He stumbled again, and she slammed her fist into the bottom of his chin, causing him to bite down on his tongue. Then, she threw a blow to his head, and blood fell from his mouth.

     At the sight of her bright red and bruised hand, Cara cringed and took a step back.

     Suddenly, a set of hands grabbed her roughly by the waist and lifted her off the floor. Her eyes widened. There was no time to struggle or fight back as she was thrown into the wall on the right.

     Cara groaned after her body made a blunt impact on the wall, and she dropped to the ground. Broken shards of glass cut through her trench coat and her left cheek. A shard of glass broke through the fabric of her clothes and tore at the skin on her lower torso. The feeling of cold, smooth glass cutting against her stomach sent chills down her spine, and she hissed in pain.

     The sound of punches followed by groaning reached her ears, and she weakly looked up from the floor. The man, who was more than likely the UnSub, had Charles pinned to the ground and was throwing hits left and right.

     God, this would be a great time to have a gun.

     The F.B.I. had refused to give Cara access to a gun until after working for them for six months, which sucked. Especially in scenarios like this.

     Here she was, a five-foot, seven-inch woman who weighed roughly half of the UnSub's body weight, going against the UnSub who stood over six feet tall, was on steroids, had rage issues, and used excessive brute force when he fought. Yes, Cara was a skilled fighter and could hold her own, but her odds? Right now? Not as high as she wished they were.

     For a second time, she pushed off the ground. Due to the movement, the glass puncturing her torso shifted, and she winced. She reached down and pulled it out, even though that would make the bleeding worsen. Throwing the shard to the side, she breathed in deeply and rushed toward the UnSub. Bringing her knee up, she booted him in the side with her heel and kicked one more time when he turned to face her on the ground.

     He reached for her leg, but Cara instinctually bent down and grabbed onto his arm with one hand. Grunting, she clenched her teeth together as she attempted to bend it as far backward as she could. With her free hand, she punched him across the face. Not even a second passed before she felt his free hand, the one she hadn't trapped or held back, wrap around her neck.

     Jumping off Charles's unconscious body, he swiftly pinned Cara to the ground. Both of his hands wrapped around her neck and tightened. She gasped as her eyes instinctually squeezed shut. She grabbed onto his arms and dug her nails into his skin, trying to loosen his grip. Unfortunately, it was too late. Black dots entered her vision, and her raspy sputters for air morphed into dry wheezes. Her hands fell to her sides, and an icy pain snaked around her neck.

     Everything began to fade into darkness.

     Everything was silent.

     Then, an abundance of light overtook everything, and Cara sprung up from the floor. Gasping for air, she desperately reached for her neck in search of the UnSub's hands.

     "Cara!" A voice echoed, and she averted her bloodshot eyes up to see Scott staring down at her. A dark red bruise covered his right cheek, and his hands were on her shoulders. He wore a concerned expression.

     "What happened?" she gasped, brushing his hands off her. The room was a mess, but Charles and the UnSub were nowhere to be seen. "W-Where are Charles and the UnSub?"

     "I regained consciousness just in time to knock the UnSub out and arrest him. Charles is outside being tended to by paramedics. The UnSub, Ronald Underwood, is being taken back to the precinct. Your team is on the way, and so is another ambulance. We're going to need to take you to the hospital," Scott said, noting her every movement.

     Cara pressed her hands to the floor and slowly stood up, ignoring the last half of his answer. As she gradually got to her feet, black dots entered her vision again, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

     "Woah, woah. Hey," Scott said, quickly running to her rescue. The way she swayed side to side and misstepped was a red flag. She needed medical attention. "Hey, let me help you."

     An arm wrapped around her backside, and a warm hand landed on her arm. "Don't touch me. I'm fine," she grunted, shoving him away.

     Scott raised an eyebrow. "Cara, you were nearly choked to death and cut badly. You're bleeding, and if it wasn't for me, you could've died." Opening her mouth to protest, he shushed her. "Just shut up and let me help you."

     Narrowing her eyes, Cara huffed and reluctantly allowed him to help her walk out of the house. He escorted her down the driveway and out into the street, where numerous police cars and two ambulances were parked.

     "We need a paramedic over here!" Scott shouted, leaning her against the hood of his car. Reaching down, Cara untied her black trench coat and shrugged it off. She winced at the movement and placed it behind her on the hood. The white button-down she wore had a gaping hole in it a few inches above her left hip and was stained with blood.

     The sound of approaching footsteps came to a halt and an unfamiliar voice echoed in the winter air. "Ma'am, are you wearing anything under your shirt?"

     Cara looked up to see a young paramedic with an emergency bag in his hands. "Just an undershirt," she sighed, blowing a strand of blonde hair out of her face.

     The paramedic nodded. "Do you mind lifting your shirt?" he asked, placing the bag next to her on the hood.

     Without responding, Cara lifted her shirt to reveal the bloody gash on her torso.

     The next nine minutes and forty-nine seconds consisted of cleaning up the wound, stitching it, bandaging it, and taping the cut on her cheek. Scott had been talking with the other officers, and by the time the team arrived, Cara had finished giving a report of what had happened.

     "Cara!" Spencer called the moment he got out of the black SUV he rode in.

     Cara turned her head to see him rushing toward her. Pushing off the Range Rover, she was about to reassure him that she was fine when he wrapped his arms around her.

     "You're okay," he breathed, heart racing.

     Rather than returning the gesture, Cara stood frozen on the spot, growing more uncomfortable the longer the hug lasted.

     She very much preferred to live inside her personal space bubble and keep people at an arm's distance. Displays of physical affection were something she hadn't fully engaged in in years, and she genuinely couldn't recall the last time she'd hug someone. It felt so foreign to have another person's arms around her in a way that wasn't violent or threatening, yet with Spencer, it felt mildly acceptable.

     "You're okay," he mumbled again, and Cara felt her stomach twist at the sound of his voice.

     "I'm okay..." she reassured him, relaxing in his arms. Just like the day he helped her calm down from a panic attack— she allowed herself to feel the beat of her heart against the bare bones of her rib cage and embrace how anxious she felt due to how close they were. She allowed herself to soak in this minuscule moment that may not have meant too much to him but meant something to her.

𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆  ───  ❪ CRIMINAL MINDS ❫
act one:     𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝚂𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙿𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂,      ¹
╱ ✹      ▬▬      ❛ © CARDIIAC    2023. ❜
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𓄹 ━━ 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙 ࿐ ໋₊ ˖

     hey everyone!! i hope you all enjoyed the twenty-first chapter!

     cara valentine is a badass bitch, but also a softie for spen. send tweet.

     (before anyone says anything, yes, i changed some setting details for charles gates's house because they barely show it in the episode and i needed to make something up. also, yes, i changed the ending because there's no way i'm writing the entire episode. this chapter is already almost 9,000 words.)

     just for some more clarification... cara and scott slept together five years ago when she was working on the deal with the law firm he "worked" for. for some background information, she first met him at a solo meeting that was organized by an employee at the firm. the meeting was after hours and it was over zari wilkinson's side business— which was organizing arrangements for different trafficking services. she organized a buy for scott between him and the red scorpions. they agreed to meet for drinks to discuss what she could offer him in a week. after the solo meeting, scott "talked" (she let him) her into coming back to his place with him. you know what happened from there.

     in chapter 7, cara mentions that the red scorpions used her sometimes for her physical appearance and sex, especially when making deals. it helps to earn millions of dollars if you're willing to sleep with the person in charge. hence, why she slept with scott. it came with the territory of being a scorpion and remember, she did this to see her father.

     i didn't want to explain all of this in the chapter because it wasn't super relevant and it felt out of place to go into extreme detail randomly. hopefully, this explains some things for those who may be confused or have questions.

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˒⠀𝑹𝑬𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹. . . ▬⠀⤸

Thank you all for taking the time out of your day to comment on this story. It means a lot and helps the story be spread to a broader audience &&& allows me to grow as an author. All I ask is that people vote on each chapter, please. As a creator, it takes time to write and develop stories. Especially ones such as this that take a while to write and dedicate time to. So please, vote on every chapter. It means a lot more than I could ever express.

Don't forget to vote & comment!

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˒⠀𝑪𝑶𝑷𝒀𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻. . . ▬⠀⤸

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