ABLOCATE ▇▇▇▇ VOLUME ONE
━━ ❛ 𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 ❜

chapter no. 033!

❝ SHIRZAD'S BOLD MOVE. ❞
▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

     THE SIDE OF HER CHEEK WAS PRESSED AGAINST THE SOFT PILLOW, AND A PEACEFUL EXPRESSION PAINTED HER FACE. A fuzzy blanket was draped over her, and her back was facing the room. Her body was tucked into the crevice of the couch between the cushion and backrest. Slow and even breaths escaped her parted lips as her eyes were shut lightly.

     Cara Valentine had successfully been asleep for a little over two hours and had eaten her first real meal in the past couple of days.

     When Aaron Hotchner was positive that she was out, he carefully removed her glasses and placed them on the conference table. He kept himself busy sifting through files and reviewing the partial profile the team had begun working on. It wasn't until he saw Matt Cruz's name flash across his phone screen that he spoke for the first time in the precinct that morning.

     "Hotchner," he answered, eyes trailing to the sleeping blonde.

     "How is she?" Cruz questioned, concerned for the young woman he'd grown to care about.

     The Unit Chief sighed. "Asleep. Have you gotten any updates from Marvinhill?" he asked, checking the time on his watch. The team would be arriving at nine.

     "Yes. An inmate has already fessed up for murdering Arthur, claiming he did it because a man named Corey Lal visited him and promised that if he killed Arthur, he would have a guard sneak heroin and weed in. No one's claimed responsibility for Farell yet." Cruz reported.

     Hotch furrowed his brows, turning off the tablet in front of him. "Corey Lal? Are you sure?"

     "Yes. There's a visitors log with one Corey Lal documented as visiting the inmate, Darell Wilson, last week and security footage of the said meeting. The man meeting him avoided cameras, and the guards don't remember enough about him to give a physical description other than the fact that he was at least six feet tall and Caucasian."

     "That could be Matthew Johnston. Especially if we're operating under the assumption the Founding Fathers are still alive. Before Person X came forward and admitted that he was one of the two killers of the Surrey Six, the initial suspects were Cody Haevischer and Matthew Johnston. They were charged with six counts of first-degree murder in the case. Ross Valentine's status is unknown, and Haevischer is still in prison." Hotch mentioned, spotting the rest of the team walking through the precinct doors.

     "I'll let Marvinhill know. For the time being, should we place her into protective custody?" Cruz asked, heavily considering the idea that had been suggested to him by the attorney general.

     At his question, Hotch glanced back over to Cara's sleeping figure. "No, not yet, but I'm going to have agents stationed outside her apartment at all times and change the locks. Have Anderson or Garcia compile a list of the best agents available. It's also best if we issue her a new phone. I've got to go." Hanging up, he placed his phone back on the table.

     "Is everything all right?" Blake asked once everyone entered the room, noticing the dark circles under their boss's eyes and the woman asleep on the couch.

     They were on a case, and Hotch knew they needed to stay focused. However, he also knew that everyone was already growing suspicious of the situation with the ex-convict. Choosing his words carefully, he stood up. He and Rossi shared a brief glance. "There was an incident late last night. Valentine has not slept until now," Hotch cleared his throat, "so I'd appreciate it if we all kept our voices low."

     Spencer's eyes grew wide, and he swiftly walked across the room. Placing his satchel on the table, he bent down and frowned. He couldn't see her sleeping face.

     "Hotch, we all saw Cruz leave the jet yesterday. What's going on?" Morgan asked, darting his eyes from their leader to his fast-asleep friend.

     "I will fill all of you in once this case has closed. Right now, I need your minds focused on catching this UnSub." Hotch ordered.

────

     GENTLY, CARA VALENTINE'S DEEP BLUE EYES FLUTTERED OPEN, AND SHE REACHED UP TO RUB THEM. Turning her head, she gradually pushed herself up into a sitting position to find that she was alone in the conference room. The doors were closed, and she could make out the outline of her glasses on the center table. Shifting back the blanket she'd been cuddling into, her sock-padded feet hit the floor. She grabbed her glasses and yawned as everything came into focus.

     Through the half-open window blinds, she could make out the outline of Memphis police officers, but the members of the BAU team were nowhere in sight. Probably chasing a lead.

     Spinning back around, the blonde caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the glass. Her wavy hair was a disheveled mess, and she had dried drool on her cheek. Groaning, she wiped it away and combed her hair with her hands, huffing as her fingers got stuck in a knot. After a minute of trying to separate her hand from her head, she yanked it out harshly and decided just to throw it into a messy bun, no longer bothering with it.

     She sat back down on the couch and slid on her black boots. After showering at a little past five in the morning after having the longest breakdown and panic attack, Cara Valentine had little to no energy or care left in her. She simply pulled on a pair of black yoga pants, a white shirt, and Spencer's red sweater that she'd left unbuttoned. She knew she didn't look her best or professional, but after what had happened that day, she had bigger fish to fry.

     Rossi and Morgan were making their way out of the elevator down the hall. "Friends of the pledge James Linwood check out," Morgan stated.

     "What about his family?" Rossi wondered, briefly glancing at him.

     "Parents live on the west coast. No siblings." Morgan replied, nodding at Reid, who'd joined them.

     "Christy was at the party with a friend named Lauryn. Trevor met Christy, but he didn't spend any time with her." Spencer announced, the three of them approaching the closed doors of the conference room.

     Rossi nodded. "She was there, though. We have a connection now."

     "And I don't think the pledge dying was the only thing that happened that night... Cara!" Spencer gasped, his eyes landing on her awakened figure when Morgan opened the doors.

     At the sound of her name, the woman looked up from where she sat at the table, a stack of files in her hand as she tried to catch herself up to speed. The two locked eyes and she found it in her to crack a microscopic smile. After the morning she'd had, seeing Spencer brought on a sense of peace that was very much needed. "Hi," she greeted, her voice small and gentle. Despite getting real sleep for the first time in months, she still felt completely and utterly exhausted.

     Spencer made his way around the table and bent down, hugging her from behind. All of his recent overthinking patterns went out the window as her safety and current state was all he cared about. He needed to be there for her. Reaching up, she placed her hand on his arms that wrapped around her shoulders. Leaning into his touch, she stared at him, squeezing his arm to reassure him that she was okay. The shift that'd taken place between them was quickly erased as the urgency to be there for the other mattered more.

     From the doorway, Rossi and Morgan watched the sweet interaction with smiles already making their way onto their lips. They could hear the genius murmuring, asking if she was okay, to which she just squeezed his arm again— silently telling him that she would be.

     Pulling away, Spencer glanced at her one last time before looking back at the other two. His cheeks burned as he realized they'd watched the exchange.

     "It's good to see you awake, Pretty Girl." Morgan greeted, moving to sit down across from her.

     Cara gave him a nod, the two fist-bumping. "I believe I've caught myself up to speed. Spen... you just interviewed Marcus, right? Trevor's old roommate?" she checked, twisting her head to see him nod.

     Both Rossi and Morgan shared looks, recognizing the nickname that the brown-haired man had informed them a while back that she called him. Spen was something Cara only ever called Spencer when they were alone, and she'd just let it slip. However, she didn't seem to notice or care as she peered back down at the papers in her hands.

     "What else do you think happened that night?" she asked, pushing her glasses up with her finger.

     It was a diminutive act but seeing her push up her glasses, not minding that she wasn't wearing makeup and didn't have her contacts in, caused Spencer's lips to curl. "Marcus witnessed something strange at the party. He saw Trevor talking to Christy's friend; then he saw Trevor talking to two upper-classmen he didn't recognize because they were wearing pig masks. Then, he saw them all go down to the basement." He replied, rocking back on his feet.

     "If something nefarious happened in the basement, the UnSub could be angry about that, not the dead pledge," Rossi suggested, sticking his hands in his pockets.

     "We should talk to Christy's friend Lauryn. She might know something," Cara mentioned, pulling her legs up onto the chair she was in, encasing her arms around them.

     Morgan picked a piece of paper off the table, looking it over. "Well, we know there's no statement from Christy for that night, and there's also nothing from anyone named Lauryn."

     "A lot of the kids ran off when the police showed up." Cara pointed out, reading over the document in front of her.

     Rossi furrowed his brows. "We need to find Lauryn. She could break this case open," he stated, sharing a nod of agreement with Spencer.

     Pulling out his phone, Morgan dialed Garcia's number.

     "How's my sweet Rose?" were the first words from the technical analyst's mouth when she answered the phone. Cara's ears perked. "Cruz had me compile a list of all our available detailed agents. I'm assuming it's because of whatever's going on."

     At her words, the blonde visibly stiffened. Her hand stopped still over a random coffee cup. A physical reaction nobody missed.

     For once, Cara knew that she wouldn't be able to hide all of her emotions or instinctual reactions. She didn't have enough energy to control every aspect of her usual character. Today, she was rendered useless and vulnerable. So, she retracted her arm and put it back around her legs.

     "Why don't you ask her yourself?" Morgan replied, and a gasp echoed on the other end.

     "Rose!"

     "Hi, bubblegum," Cara greeted, squeezing her intertwined hands that held her legs to her chest.

     "What's that in your voice?"

     Cara's brows scrunched together. "What?"

     The three men exchanged disconcerted expressions, curious about what the analyst was hearing that they weren't.

     "Have you been crying?!" Penelope exclaimed, and Cara kept her mouth shut, growing uncomfortable. Spencer glanced down, now noticing the red rims around her eyes and how her cheeks were a light pink shade and slightly puffy. "Caralyn Rosan Valentine, do I need to fly to Memphis right now?!"

     A lump rose in Cara's throat, and she shoved it down. "I'm fine," she responded, even though she knew nobody believed her.

     "For someone who's a professional lie detector, you suck at lying."

     It took everything in her not to lose her composure as she inhaled deeply. "We're calling about the case. Can you find out if Christy has had contact with anyone recently named Lauryn? Or check to see if Smith or Trevor know anyone with that name?" she asked, unable to utter Michael's name.

     A frown tugged at Spencer's lips. It was then that his suspicions were confirmed— whatever was going on had to do with the Red Scorpions.

     "Ugh, fine. You and I shall hash it out later. I'll get searching for this enigmatic Lauryn. PG out!" The line went dead, and Cara let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.     

     "What's going on?" were the first three words to leave Morgan's mouth, breaking the silence. Cara tensed again. "Hotch said he would fill us in once the case was over, but come on. Talk to us, Cara."

     To hear team members use her first name instead of her last was off-putting, and she didn't like it. She also didn't know how to respond to him. Everything that happened with the Red Scorpions was documented and connected to Operation Azrael. A high-security and classified operation that she was prohibited from speaking about with anyone other than Hotch, Rossi, and Cruz.

     Her eyes landed on Rossi, and the other two agents' stares followed.

     Did Rossi already know about what was going on?

     Spencer's eyebrows drew in. "This has to do with Sánchez and the Red Scorpions, doesn't it?"

     Cara could feel another lump building up, and Rossi watched as a thin film of tears glossed over her eyes. "She can't answer any of your questions," he spoke, coming to her aid.

     "Says who?!"

     "Why not?"

     Morgan and Spencer shared perplexed glances.

     "Says the U.S. and Canadian government— the forces at be," Rossi replied, clearing his throat. "Don't push it."

     Why was Cara Valentine given the order not to talk to her team about whatever was happening? Her friends? What was so extreme that would affect her this noticeably?

     "Cara?" Spencer turned to face her.

     The moment they locked eyes, Cara felt herself choke up, and she averted her stare back to the table. Every inch of her being wanted to tell him everything and have his arms wrap around her again while she broke down for a second time. She could feel herself being pushed to that point. After the news of Farell and Arthur, saying she was more emotionally unstable than usual would be an understatement.

     However, she was true to her word and didn't break promises. And she refused to break the vow she'd made to Hotch and Cruz. Especially a somewhat legal and federal vow.

     "Wait until the case is over to ask your questions and when you do, direct them to Hotch," Rossi ordered; his tone left no room for argument. Pulling out his phone and dialing someone's number, he left the room.

     The door closed behind the Italian man, and Morgan frowned. "Can you really not say anything?" His voice was soft as he was careful with how he approached the shaken woman in front of him.

     Cara cleared her throat, using what self-control she had left to shove that lump down and blink away her tears. "We should call Hotch," she said, sorting the papers on the table before standing. Spencer and Morgan followed her movement, their concern increasing further. "Tell him what Marcus said and about Lauryn."

     "Ara..." Spencer murmured, tugging on her elbow.

     Not bothering to meet his pleading stare, she continued. "I think Rossi could be right in suggesting that something went down in that basement. The UnSub could be someone close to Lauryn. Family member, perhaps." As she spoke, she walked over to the couch she'd been sleeping on and found her phone wedged between the armrest and cushion. When she turned around, she nearly stumbled into Spencer and Morgan.

     "Cara, are y—"

     "Don't." Cara's voice cracked as she was swift in cutting off Morgan. She held a shaking hand out in front of her. "Don't ask me if I'm okay."

     Spencer stepped closer to her. "We won't. Just... just let us help you. We don't need to know what's happening. Just let us help."

     "You can't." Cara lowered her phone. "Nobody can."

     "Even if it's something small, I will do everything I can. I promise." Spencer breathed, desperately wanting to do something to make the weight on her shoulders a little lighter.

     "You can't," she stated firmly, doing her best not to snap out of frustration. "I know you want to, but you can't promise me that." Before either of the men could say something, her phone rang. Cruz's name flashed on the screen, and her stomach dropped. Disregarding the looks the pair shared, she answered. "Yes?"

     "Are you alone?" Cruz's tone immediately implied that something was wrong.

     And the hits kept coming.

     Cara's blood ran cold, and she quickly walked toward the conference room door. "Give me a moment." Weaving her way in-between wandering officers in the building, she headed to the empty kitchenette. She shut the door and let out a breath. "Continue."

     "Has Hotch filled you in?"

     She shook her head. "No. I haven't seen him since early this morning."

     Cruz audibly sighed. "An inmate has fessed up for murdering Arthur, claiming he did it because a man named Corey Lal visited him and promised that if he killed Arthur, he would have a guard sneak heroin and weed in."

     Time seemed to stop for a second as Cara processed the name, Corey Lal. It was one she hadn't heard in years. "Corey Lal? Are you positive?"

     "Yes. There's a visitors log with one Corey Lal documented as visiting the inmate, Darell Wilson, last week and security footage of the said meeting. The man meeting him avoided cameras, and none of the guards remember enough about him to give a physical description other than that he was at least six feet tall and Caucasian."

     Right away, she knew precisely who had visited the inmate. "That's Matthew Johnston."

     "Hotch said the same."

     "And Farell?" Cara asked, unconsciously beginning to pace back and forth.

     "An inmate, Kevin Reyes, came forward two hours ago admitting to the murder of Kirk Farell. He claimed the same as Darell Wilson, and documentation and footage show a male, around six feet tall and Caucasian, visiting him. Signed in as Corey Lal. Guards didn't have any other descriptors than what's already been established."

     She ran a hand over her face. "The Founding Fathers are closing in. Michael Le and now Matthew Johnston."

     "And Konaam Shirzad."

     Cruz's statement caused Cara to come to a standstill. His words caused every nerve in her body to freeze, and she struggled to maintain her emotionless exterior as fear snaked its way into her system again. "What?" she deadpanned, her mouth suddenly as dry as sand.

     The door to the kitchenette opened, and the blonde peered over to see Rossi enter. As he made his way to her, she lowered the phone and put it on speaker.

     "This morning, Owen Sánchez had a visitor: Richard Acevedo. He passed security, but it wasn't until he'd left that one of the guards realized who he was. Facial recognition was run on the security footage, and the visitor was a match for Konaam Shirzad. It's been confirmed that one of the Founding Fathers is alive. Although we already speculated that was the case, Shirzad's bold move on the board shifts things."

     "In what way?" Rossi asked, glancing at the rigid woman beside him.

     "It raises the threat Valentine is already under. Solidifies the danger."

     Cruz didn't seem fazed by the sound of Rossi's voice.

     Blinking, Cara pulled herself out of the black hole she could feel her consciousness drifting toward. "Has Owen disclosed any details of his conversation with Shirzad?"

     "No. He's trying to use the conversation as leverage to get him moved to another prison." Cara couldn't help but scoff. That sounded about right. "Yeah, I know. The nerve."

     Rossi shook his head. "I'm surprised he's not using it as leverage to get Valentine back on the phone with him."

     "He tried, but Marvinhill shut that down immediately."

     Cara shoved her phone into Rossi's palm and ran her hands over her face, tossing her glasses onto a table.

     Eyeing her demeanor, Rossi spoke, "Captian Marvinhill?"

     "The very same," Cruz confirmed, and shuffling could be heard on the other end. "Valentine?"

    "What?" the ex-convict sighed, unable to hide the annoyance in her tone.

     "At the request of Hotch, the locks on all the doors in your apartment have been changed." Cruz shared. "Detailed agents will be stationed outside at all times, and will escort you everywhere you go. You are also being issued a new phone that has been programmed to only accept calls and texts from the FBI."

     She should have seen this coming. Sooner or later, the stakes were going to be upped and everyone around her was going to be in immediate and indefinite danger. The people she owed everything to, especially a particular doctor, were in more danger than ever. And it was all her fault.

     "Beautiful," she said, staring down at her boots.

     Suddenly, the door to the kitchenette opened for a second time. Rossi looked over his shoulder, catching glimpse of the Unit Chief making his way over.

     "Cruz?" Hotch called, assuming it was he who was on the phone with the two. He stood at Cara's side.

     "Aaron, I've caught them up to speed."

     Hotch could see the blonde glaring at her shoes out of the corner of his eye. "Any word on Sánchez?"

     "No. Still refusing to talk unless he's transferred."

     "And there's a fat chance of that happening," Rossi commented.

     Hotch nodded in agreement. "Cruz, we've got to get back to the case. Text me if there are any updates."

     As Rossi ended the call, Cara separated herself from the pair.

     "Valentine, you are to stay with a member of the team for the rest of the case," Hotch ordered, rolling his shoulders back. "I'll be taking your phone. You'll receive a new one once we're back in Quantico. Is that clear?"

     Rather than responding with her traditional, "Crystal," she remained silent. With her back to them, Cara was unresponsive. Her breath was coming out in silent huffs, and she could feel her ribcage opening and expanding against the fabric of her shirt. Blinking, a tear of frustration trickled down her cheek.

     This was only the beginning, and she was tired of being part of the game.

     Rossi stepped forward, concerned. "Kid, what's wrong?"

     Those last two words ignited a flame inside Cara's chest and she whirled around. Her deep blue eyes widened as her head reeled back an inch, appalled. "Wrong?" she echoed, raising a challenging brow. There was exasperation laced within that singular word. "What's wrong?!"

     Behind the glass windows and on the opposite end of the precinct, the rest of the team was gathered together. Everyone was discussing the case while Spencer was watching the exchange between Cara, Rossi, and Hotch. Rossi and Hotch's backs were to them, but he could see the ex-convict clear as day.

     And for the first time, a new emotion Spencer had never observed before was etched onto Cara's face. He could see anger— pure, raw anger, etched into her facial expression. The corners of her lips were narrowing downward, her eyes were glaringly dark, her eyebrows were drawn together, and her jaw was clenched.

     A spike of worry ran up Spencer's spine. He'd never seen her like this.

     And neither had Rossi. The anger radiating off of her was fierce, and he could see that she was reaching a breaking point. It was too much. Hotch, on the other hand, had briefly witnessed this facet of her that day they talked to Sánchez on the phone. This time was different, though. This time her anger wasn't intertwined with pain; this time it was intertwined with a tone of relinquishment.

     "Let's see because over the last month: my night terrors have been meddling with reality; I can scarcely tell what is real and what isn't; I constantly feel sick and can hardly keep anything down; I'm hearing voices from the past; I wake up to shaking hands and weapons around me; a bounty was placed on Owen's head and he was attacked; Le painted me a touching quote on a blank wall in Castaway's Mansion; Farell and Arthur were murdered; Matthew Johnston is alive and well; Konaam Shirzad is still kicking too, and spoke with Owen; now Owen's refusing to talk. I— Shall I keep going?"

     Those were the words that Cara wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, but she didn't. Instead, she blinked and let out a slow and even breath. She refused to break any further in front of Hotch and Rossi. So, she used all the strength she had left in her and buried every feeling and thought deep, deep down into the ground.

     All was well. Nothing was amiss.

     Now, as quickly as they had seen the anger, it was gone without a trace. As if it never existed. Rather, Cara Valentine bore an empty expression. Not a shred of emotion was present in the muscles of her face or in those deep blue eyes. The walls were back up and it was near to impossible for anyone to read her.

     "I uh," she began, picking up her glasses. "I allowed myself to get caught up in light of the news. Emotion influence my actions, and I snapped at both of you. I'm sorry." The last thing she wanted was to snap at anyone, yet she just did.

     Cara, stay neutral. We are not nose-diving and defaulting to angry outbursts. It was three words, but it was three too many. What just happened will never happen again. Outbursts lead to questions of concern which leads to you lying because you don't want anyone to worry about you. So, shut it down.

     The Unit Chief frowned. As always, she was too hard on herself.  "Valentine, it's all right," he reassured her. "If some part of this didn't affect your state of being, I'd be a little concerned."

     In response, she blinked. "I'd like to spend the rest of our time here with Rossi back at the hotel," she stated, glancing at the Italian man who was watching her closely. "I am not in a stable state of mind and would like to be taken off the case."

     Every inch of her was shouting at her not to do this, and just push through the day, but she knew what she needed was isolation and silence. It was the only way she would be successful in collecting herself and reaching a moderately stable emotional state. It was the only thing she knew would prevent her from lashing out at others.

     Silence was the only safe option for her right now.

𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆   ───   ❪ CRIMINAL MINDS ❫
act one:     𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝚂𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙿𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂,       ¹
╱ ✹       ▬▬     ❛ © CARDIIAC     2023. ❜
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
𓄹 ━━ 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙 ࿐ ໋₊ ˖

     hey everyone!! i hope you all enjoyed the thirty-third chapter!

     the founding fathers are closing in and cara's unraveling...

     all the nightmares, paranoia, panic attacks, and crying is finally catching up to our beloved emotionless android. as she said in chapter 21 about an unsub, "So proceed with caution. As his grip on reality continues to fade, he'll become more dangerous." it took time, but her words are now a reality.

     and it's only going downhill from here.

     also, i know it's a bit of an odd ending, but i didn't want to write the rest of the case and this felt like the right place to stop.

     REMINDER: WE ARE TWO CHAPTERS AWAY FROM ACT TWO!!!! KEEP GETTING EXCITED!!!

     to keep the recent trend going, here are two cute edits i made out of boredom:

●○

○●

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

˒⠀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!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

˒⠀𝑪𝑶𝑷𝒀𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻. . . ▬⠀⤸

❝ All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be
reproduced, distributed, or transmitted
in any form or by any means, including
photocopying, recording, or other
electronic or mechanical methods,
without prior permission of the author,
except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical reviews and
other noncommercial uses permitted
by copyright law. ❞