ABLOCATE ▇▇▇▇ VOLUME TWO
━━ ❛ 𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆 ❜

chapter no. 041!

❪ 𝚃𝚆 ⠀ : ⠀ 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝙸𝙲 𝚅𝙸𝙾𝙻𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴,
𝙿𝙷𝚈𝚂𝙸𝙲𝙰𝙻 & 𝙿𝚂𝚈𝙲𝙷𝙾𝙻𝙾𝙶𝙸𝙲𝙰𝙻
𝚃𝙾𝚁𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴,⠀𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙰𝚄𝙻𝚃,  𝚂𝙴𝚇𝚄𝙰𝙻
𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙰𝚄𝙻𝚃, ⠀⠀𝙳𝙴𝙿𝙸𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 𝙾𝙵
𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙳, ⠀⠀ 𝙼𝚄𝚁𝙳𝙴𝚁, ⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝙰𝙽𝙳
𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 ⠀⠀ 𝙾𝙵 ⠀⠀ ⠀𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙴. ❫

❝ LET'S PLAY A GAME, SHALL
WE? ❞
▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

﹙ APRIL 2ND, 2016 ﹚

     HELLAM TOWNSHIP HAD HANDED YET ANOTHER DEAD END ON A SILVER PLATTER TO THE BAU TEAM. After searching for five days in the woods and around the small town for a clue— a sign— something— they came up empty-handed. It was gradually becoming an expected result: having absolutely nothing to go on and no tangible leads.

     All they had were poems with different yet meaningless meanings— meaningless in the sense that they provided the F.B.I. nothing of interest— and four letters written in Cara Valentine's blood by the missing ex-convict herself. Nevertheless, that fact wasn't of any use.

     It only provided the beginning of a rough timeline and a half-breath of fresh air. Forensics had been able to specify how old the blood on the paper was and it was determined that Cara had written her name at some point during the beginning of that year. This meant the possibility of her being alive was much higher than some believed.

     And today, all those who weren't wholly convinced might be.

     Every inch of the F.B.I. Headquarters were consumed in chatter as agents discussed their weekend plans and how many hours they had left until their workday was over. Tara Lewis, Jennifer Jareau, and Spencer Reid were all sitting at their desks, finishing up leftover paperwork on their most recent case. Every few minutes, one of them would say something or audibly sigh, but for the most part, they were quiet.

     Yesterday, they'd flown back in from their most recent case concerning an international serial killer that they'd worked with Emily Prentiss— an old colleague who'd once been a team member. After flying back from New York City, everyone had been in relatively good spirits since they'd seen one of their favorite people. Seeing Emily had helped ease some of the intense pressure the team had been feeling, more than ever, since the beginning of that year. It'd also helped numb the recent scar that Derek Morgan's departure had left. Even Spencer was in a better mood than he'd been in.

     However, that was all about to change.

     Glancing up from the file in her hands, Tara furrowed her brows as she could see both Hotch and Rossi engaged in a heated discussion in the team leader's office from the comfort of her chair. Slowly closing her file, she leaned to the right and hissed, "Psst!"

     At the sudden whisper, JJ jumped, startled, and she turned around in her seat. Giving the dark-skinned woman a questioning stare, she placed her pen down.

     Tara simply responded with a nod in the direction of Hotch's office, and the blonde swiveled her head. Through the open window blinds, the two women could see both agents facing one another and talking. The Unit Chief's back was turned to the window so they couldn't see his facial expression, but they could see Rossi's, and the one he wore immediately caused Tara to straighten her posture.

     "What's going on?" JJ whispered, motioning to their boss's office. Her words quickly caught Spencer's attention, and he twisted his head.

     Rossi's face was pale, and he looked as if he was going to be sick. Hotch was talking and gesturing to the laptop on the desk. The Italian man shook his head, pointing a finger at Hotch as he spoke over him. From where the three sat, they couldn't hear a thing, but it was clear that they were in the middle of an intense argument.

     "Hello, beautiful people, what're your plans for— why are you shushing me?!" Penelope retorted as Spencer shushed her. Glancing between the three, she furrowed her brows as she stopped next to JJ. Following their line of sight, she saw what they were staring at. "Oh, yeah, they've been arguing like that for the past hour or so," she remarked offhandedly, taking a sip of her tea.

     "Are you serious?" Tara asked, glancing at her in disbelief.

     The analyst nodded. "Totally. This is the most serious lovers' quarrel I've ever seen between the two of them," she sighed dramatically, winking at JJ as she rolled her eyes at the comment.

     "What're they arguing about?" Spencer questioned as a familiar feeling of dread churned in his chest.

     "I have no idea. I'm assuming it's over whatever Hotch received in the mail today," Penelope shrugged.

     All color drained from the doctor's cheeks, and he quickly sprung from his chair. Inhaling deeply, JJ rubbed her middle and index finger against her temple as she knew what was coming next. The three women all did.

     Every time anyone in the team received mail at the Bureau, the doctor would check to see if it was from the Red Scorpions or Cara, and every time, it wasn't.

     Grabbing the knob of the office door, Spencer opened it and stepped inside, out of breath. "What'd you get?" he breathed, desperation shining in his eyes.

     The arguing ended, and Hotch ran a hand over his face while Rossi walked towards the couch in the room. Darting his eyes between the two, he waited for someone to answer.

     Plopping down on the couch, Rossi looked up at the ceiling with glossy eyes, willing himself not to cry in front of either man. On the other end of the small office, the dark-haired Unit Chief was staring at the ground as he found it challenging to find the words to respond to Spencer's question.

     "Close the door," Rossi finally instructed, taking in a deep breath as he met the distressed expression of the brown-haired man.

     Obliging right away, Spencer closed the door and stared expectantly at the pair. "Did you get something from them?" he pressed.

     "Yes," the Italian man answered, his voice wavering.

     "Rossi," Hotch warned, snapping his gaze to him.

     Letting out a huff of frustration, Rossi stood up. "Aaron, we have to show them. They've been a part of this team for years. We have dedicated our lives to this job and Cara's case. When there's a break, they have the right to know," he stated firmly.

     "I'm not disagreeing with you, Dave, but this is different, and you know it," Hotch replied, giving the man a pointed stare.

     "I do, but they still deserve to know," the latter stressed.

     A blanket of tense silence coated the room, and Spencer felt a cold rush of fear trickle down his spine as his train of thoughts went to the darkest corners of his mind. What could the Red Scorpions send that would make Hotch not want to share it with the rest? Was it a photograph or an item? Every possibility of what it could be soared through his mind, and the longer they stood there in the stillness, the sicker he felt.

     Clearing his throat, he inhaled deeply, attempting to keep himself calm. "What is it?" he choked out.

     Hotch appeared apprehensive as Rossi glared at him, nodding toward the doctor. Sighing, the Unit Chief caved in and turned to Spencer. "Get the rest of the team and meet us in the conference room."

────

     IT WASN'T UNTIL EVERYONE HAD SEATED THEMSELVES AT THE ROUND TABLE THAT AARON HOTCHNER BROKE THE STRINGENT SILENCE. "I want to make it abundantly clear that if any of you feel uncomfortable at any time, you are more than entitled to leave the room. The video will be played in its entirety, and if you need to take a break, we can pause and take a breather," he announced, holding the remote in his hand.

     Before anyone could ask what he was talking about, Rossi turned off the lights. The sound of TV static filled the room. Penelope gripped JJ's hands tightly as a time stamp appeared in the bottom right corner of the monitor screen.

     May 5, 2014.

     Recognizing the date, Spencer inhaled sharply. This was filmed when SES Mateo Cruz officially questioned the team on Cara's disappearance. Everyone in the room remembered that day well.

     "Let's play a game, shall we?" An unfamiliar voice asked, and the screen faded from black to a wall with white and blue-painted bricks. The lower half of the wall was coated in blue, while the upper half was basked in pure white. In the center sat Cara Valentine in a wooden chair.

     Small gasps echoed around the conference room, and a hand flew to JJ's mouth at the sight of the missing woman.

     Cara was wearing the same outfit they'd last seen her in: black jeans and a dark grey tank top that appeared as if it'd been stretched. Her hair was a knotted, disheveled mess, and black eyeliner and mascara rested under her eyes. There was a gash on her forehead and dried blood that streaked down the right side of her face. Her nose was red and dried blood trailed from her left nostril to the top of her upper lip. Bruises covered her arms. Exhaustion was written across her face, and she was panting, her chest rising up and down vigorously as she fought to catch her breath. Beside her was a small wooden, rectangular table with a glass of water on it.

     "It's called Truth and Scream. Ever heard of it?" The voice asked from behind the camera. Silence answered them. "It seems not. I admit it's not as popular as it should be, but I digress."

     "Are those wires?" Tara asked suddenly, nodding at the video.

     Blinking, Spencer snapped his eyes to the blonde's hands to see that they were wrapped in colorful wires, and her forearms were tied down with zip ties around the chair's armrests. They were electrocuting her in small waves. At that realization, he tensed.

     "Let's start with something simple. Is your full name Caralyn Rosan Valentine?"

     Cara glared up in acknowledgment but kept her mouth shut. Her eyes scanned something behind the camera from left to right for a moment. A couple of seconds of silence followed until the voice spoke again. "I asked," they paused, and the team listened as the wires whirled on. A soft buzzing noise could be heard, and the woman squeezed her eyes shut. "Is your full name Caralyn Rosan Valentine?"

     "Go to Hell," she huffed, gasping for air.

     Someone clicked their tongue. "I'm going to take that as a yes. Next question, how long have you been part of the Red Scorpions?"

     "If they want me to answer questions they already know the answers to so badly, they can come in here and ask me themselves." Cara spat, sitting up.

     "Should I repeat the question?"

     She scoffed. "You know they're using you, right, Leone?" she checked, raising a brow. "As soon as they're done with you, you're dead. You're nothing but a puppet. A means to an end. You're disposable, and they'll throw you out with the rest of the trash at the end of the day."

     "Stephen Leone?" JJ asked, forehead creasing. Rossi nodded.

     Suddenly, the body of the voice emerged from the shadows and entered the camera's view. The backside of him faced the team, and he loomed over Cara. All was still before the sound of skin being struck echoed. Then, without warning, the sound of bone cracking came next and the man stumbled backward. From what they could tell, Cara had headbutted him.

     "Now we're a matching set," she smirked, leaning back in her chair.

     "Watch your fucking mouth," Leone growled, reaching up to presumably hold his nose.

     Cara snorted, somehow amused. "How about you go fuck yourself?"

     Abruptly, the screen filled with static, and the room was basked with a hushed uneasiness. Hotch and Rossi's eyes briefly met before they looked in opposite directions. Tara wore knitted brows, something irking her about the tape. JJ and Penelope sat still as they tried to process what they'd just witnessed while Spencer took slow, deep breaths.

     "Is that it?" Penelope cleared her throat, eyes glistening with tears. She didn't want to see any more. What they were just shown was enough to give her nightmares for the rest of her life.

     Spencer flashed his stare across the table. "What do you mean, is that it?"

     Opening her mouth to defend Penelope, JJ was cut off by another unknown voice speaking. "What did you tell them?"

     The date June 2, 2014, popped up on the monitor, and Hotch shifted. This was the beginning of the DVD that he didn't want any of them to see. Particularly Reid.

     Unlike the last clip, the room on the screen wasn't white and blue. Instead, the room was basked in darkness, with the only light source coming from three swaying lightbulbs that hardly fit in the frame.

     Under the lights sat Cara Valentine strapped, yet again, to a chair. Compared to the previous video, she was no longer in the clothes the team had last seen her in. Instead, she wore a navy blue button-up with mild rips and tears in the sleeves and underwear. Her legs were decorated in a sea of purple and blue splotches, and she was considerably thinner.

     Not even an entire month had passed between the two clips, but the shift in her appearance was dramatically severe. Her face was void of emotion, and she looked like the shell of a ghost. There wasn't an ounce of life shining through, and her stare was indifferent.

     "If you don't start speaking, things will get ugly." A different voice clarified. Cara remained still. "All right. Bring him in."

     The sound of a door opening and slamming shut loudly echoed, followed by innocuous footsteps. Narrowing her brows the tiniest bit, Tara leaned forward. It was a small, trivial detail, but she couldn't help noticing how the woman's eyes widened slightly at whoever had entered the room.

     "Cara, don't tell th—" A new voice was cut off by the blow of what sounded to be a punch.

     JJ furrowed her brows. "Who is that? The person who just called her by her name?" she questioned, tearing her gaze away from the screen.

     Rather than answering, Hotch nodded at the video, indicating that she needed to keep watching.

     It was as if someone had flipped a switch inside Cara as she abruptly sat up, eyes flashing from whoever stood behind the camera to the left side of the room. Her sharp change in demeanor was quick, and Spencer tilted his head.

     "Let's try this again. Either tell us what we want to know, or the old man gets it." The first voice from the beginning of the clip threatened. "What did you tell the F.B.I.?"

     "We have you on tape speaking when you were instructed not to. What did you say?" Another voice demanded, and Cara remained quiet. Her deep blue eyes were wide and uncertain as her gaze wavered to the side.

     After a few seconds of silence, someone sighed. "Do it."

     The team couldn't see what happened next, but whatever it was, it was enough to provoke Cara. Her eyes were wider than they'd ever been, and she gulped.

     "What did you tell them?"

     Her focus remained locked on something off-camera.

     "What did you tell them?!"

     Finally, she shifted her stare. "What makes you think I told them anything of significance?"

     "Well, well, well... Someone finally found their voice." A deep voice jeered.

     "Do the words, "Just because you caught his daughter doesn't mean you will catch the truth," ring a bell? Because they certainly do for us."

     Cara rolled her eyes. "Of course, they do. I said them, but why does that matter?" she inquired, darting her eyes between the group of people behind the camera. "It was only a matter of time before the F.B.I. figured out who my father was. Better to dangle a meaningless puzzle piece rather than reveal the full picture."

     Her words struck a chord inside Spencer, and he momentarily held his breath.

     "It matters because you were supposed to stick to the plan."

     "I did!" she shouted, frustration evident in her tone. "I did everything you asked me to do! I said every stupid line. I taunted, mocked, and distracted them just as Jarrod instructed me to."

     Someone scoffed. "If you stuck to it, explain why you confessed to Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid that you recognized the photographs from the Abbotsford Auto-Mall attack?"

     At the brown-haired man's name, Cara froze.

     "You didn't think we wouldn't use him against you, did y?"

     JJ inhaled sharply at the spoken words and glanced at Spencer, who was desperately staring at the screen. They were using him against her.

     "No." Cara choked out, briefly averting her attention to the ground. "I knew you would. I knew you were watching him just as you were watching me."

     Spencer scrunched his brows together. If that were true, why wouldn't she tell the team? Or at least him? They would have done anything to keep her safe if they knew she was still being watched. He would have done something.

     "What else did you tell him?"

     Cara's profile hardened. "Nothing."

     "Don't lie to us."

     She scoffed. "If I had told him anything, I would not be here right now," she snapped.

     "We know you told him something."

     "What did you tell him?"

     "Nothing." Cara barked, her eyes flashing to the side.

     The sound of someone breathing heavily could be heard, and Rossi watched somberly as the blonde paled.

     "Don't think I won't hesitate to slit his throat." The deeper of the four voices warned.

     "I'm fine, Cara," someone reassured, and she inhaled deeply.

     Tara's eyes widened as the dots connected. "That's Person X, her father," she murmured, looking to Hotch and Rossi for confirmation. The Unit Chief kept his focus locked on the screen while Rossi nodded.

     "What did you tell Spencer Reid?"

     "You have five seconds."

     Penelope could feel the panic in her chest, desperately wanting to take over as she watched in horror. Every inch of her wanted to sprint out of the room and go home or watch a video of cute animals— anything to distract her from the monstrosity before her.

     "Starlight, I'm fine. Don't—"

     "Five."

     JJ hastily reached over and intertwined her fingers with Spencer's, squeezing his hand for comfort as he continued to stare at the screen with glowing eyes.

     "I already told you: I didn't tell him anything!" Cara yelled.

     "You're lying."

     "Four."

     Struggling against the straps that held her in the chair, she shook her head. "I'm not!"

     Tara let out a slow and controlled breath, attempting to relax her muscles as her body involuntarily tensed. None of them, aside from Hotch and Rossi, knew how this video ended, and Tara wasn't convinced she wanted to find out.

     "Three."

     "I love you, Cara."

     Cara's face dropped, tears welling up. "Dad—"

     "Two."

     "I didn't tell him anything!" she protested, continuing to thrash.

     "One."

     The video cut and the screen faded to nothingness. The room was completely and utterly silent, and a tear trailed down Penelope's cheek. Rossi ran a hand over his face while Hotch stared at the carpet.

     Spencer was frozen in his seat while JJ and Tara were processing what they had just watched. No one moved or said a word as the date November 22, 2014, appeared next.

     The missing woman appeared on the screen in the same room as last time. She wore a ripped, white button-up with dark red stains vicariously scattered about the fabric and underwear. Rather than sitting in a chair, this time she was suspended in the air, chains cuffed around her wrists, keeping her held up as her toes dragged against the floor. Her head faced the floor.

     Five months had passed, and she was thinner than in the last clip. Her platinum blonde hair had grown drastically, and her brown roots were showing. There were dried cuts on her calves, and her thighs were decorated with more bruises, yet there appeared to be some old ones as they were gradually turning green and yellow.

     "You know you're responsible for your father's death, correct? This silent treatment is unnecessary. We didn't pull the trigger. You did." A familiar voice remarked in the background.

     Cara didn't answer.

     "We all know you're lying."

     "Lying for a man who isn't even looking for you."

     Spencer's fists clenched. They were talking about him. He knew they were.

     "You must care about Spencer Reid an awful lot if you'd kill your own father for him."

     "I wonder if he'd do the same for you."

     "Do you think he would?"

     Hotch nearly winced at the question, looking to his youngest team member. Spencer's eyes were glossed over, and his fists were gripped in anger. He was taking every second of this personally.

     "I don't think so. After all, you were just an attractive charity case for him."

     Cara squeezed her eyes shut at their words, and someone behind the camera snickered.

     Spencer's heart clenched, and he hoped she knew that wasn't true. She was never a charity case to him. Never.

     "Aw, Hennessy, I think that one hurt her."

     "It should, though, because she knows it's the truth. She's a charity case. We know it, the F.B.I. knows it, she knows it."

     Penelope shook her head feverishly. "That's not true," she choked out, turning desperately to the team. They all knew that it wasn't.

     "How does that make you feel, sweet Caralyn? Does it make you infuriated? So upset that you want to cry?"

     "Too bad Dr. Reid isn't here to wipe your tears."

     At the mention of Spencer's name again, both he and the woman in the video tensed.

     "Don't say his name." Cara snapped, anger creeping into her words.

     Somebody gasped. "Why not? Someone missing their boyfriend?"

     "Why? Are you missing yours, Hen?" Cara questioned, raising a mock-curious brow. Nobody spoke. "After all... it must be suffocatingly horrible to live with the fact that you killed the only man that ever loved you."

     A tall figure emerged behind the camera and marched toward the woman, striking her across the face. The sound of bone cracking echoed, and JJ winced.

     Hennessy backed away, and Cara laughed, shaking her head. "It seems like I'm not the only one who has a soft spot for men with brown hair," she teased, spitting out blood.

     Her words caused Spencer's eyes to grow.

     "Watch it." Someone called sharply.

     "Or what? Will you hit me? Rape me? You've already done both, so what will it be this time?" Cara shouted.

     "Do you want us to send Le in? Do you want to be left alone with him again?"

     The blonde narrowed her glare at the mention of Michael Le. "At least he'd get straight to the point rather than badger me."

     "Oh, you want to get straight to the point?"

     That question struck a sense of dread down everyone's spine, and Tara shifted uneasily in her seat. "Hotch, they don't..." she trailed off, hoping she wouldn't have to say the words out loud. The Unit Chief shook his head.

     A flood of relief rushed over JJ, and she let out the breath of air she'd been holding in.

     "Why did you betray the Red Scorpions?"

     Cara scoffed. "Seriously? This again?" Hennessy grabbed the back of her head and yanked it, so they saw eye-to-eye. "I already told you it was an accident," she grunted, blowing her hair out of her face. "I didn't mean to make that comment to the F.B.I. It wasn't until later that I sold you assholes out to protect my father."

     Hennessy shook his head. "We already know that. We need to know what you told him."

     All attention in the room darted to Spencer, and he pressed his lips together. Cara had confided in him, but he wasn't going to say a word. He hadn't for over two years, and he wasn't going to now. Not until he had all of his facts straight and had a real lead. He couldn't lose another person he cared about, and he refused to make any mistakes in his search.

     "Every time you ask, I always say the same thing: nothing. I didn't tell him anything," she growled, and a knife was pressed to her throat.

     "We both know that's not true. I know those loose lips of yours talked," Hennessy hissed.

     Cara shook her head lightly. "I don't know who 'we' is, but I know that I didn't. You're wasting your time. Go back to selling vitamins," she snapped, and the team watched as Hennessy stepped closer and stabbed the knife into her side.

     Penelope gasped, and JJ looked away.

     On the screen, Cara could visibly be seen squeezing her eyes shut in agony. She was biting down on her bottom lip, drawing blood. She didn't want to give Hennessy Lu the satisfaction of knowing she was in pain.

     "Lu." Someone warned.

     The dark-skinned man in front of Cara pulled the knife out. "You're the reason my son is dead. I will get you to talk," he snarled, ignoring another voice calling his name in the background of the video.

     JJ watched as Lu snaked his arm around the blonde, and she realized what he was about to do. Before she could say a word or look away, an ear-piercing scream spread throughout the room. The blade had been plunged into Cara's back, and her chest rose up and down vigorously as her breath came out in wheezes.

     Spencer slammed his fist against the table, causing everyone to jump. Standing up, he shoved his chair back and angrily ran his hands through his hair.

     "Kid, breathe," Rossi advised, but he shook his head.

     "One turn of the knife, and I hit your spinal cord. You're already beginning to bleed out. Are you sure you want to stay silent now?" Hennessy questioned.

     Spencer directed his attention back to the screen.

     "Even if I told him something, what makes you think I'd tell you?" she grunted.

     "Change of heart, perhaps?" Lu mused, and she groaned. Nobody could see what he'd done, but from how she moaned in pain, it could only be assumed that he drove the knife in deeper. "To live?"

     Cara managed to shake her head. "No."

     "This is your last chance."

     "No," she repeated.

     Another figure stepped into the frame. "You would kill yourself for him? Right now?" They questioned, almost in disbelief.

     She merely nodded, eyes clenched shut in agony. "Yes."

     Her answer made Spencer's heart drop as his mind drifted to Maeve and how he was willing to kill himself for her without hesitation. He loved her and was willing to die if that meant she survived, and here was Cara Valentine... making a similar choice. So, what did that mean in terms of how she felt?

     "We trained you. We took you in. We made you part of our family!"

     "I never wanted to be part of this family," Cara choked out, beginning to cough up blood.

     "Don't lie to yourself." Another figure stepped into the frame. All three of the men's backs faced the camera. Only in little slivers between them was the woman visible.

     In between coughs, she spoke. "I never... had a choice. Le... he took that away from me, but Spencer?" she paused, spitting out a mouthful of blood. "He gave me... what no one else would. A chance. A chance to be whoever I wanted to be... and nothing you do to me... will change that."

     Someone snarled, "We'll see about that."

     The sound of TV static filled the room again.

     Not long after, a voice could be heard mumbling weakly while the screen remained a blur of pepper-and-salt-colored static. "Two... one... t-twelve..." Expressions of curiosity and puzzlement washed over much of the room. The difference in tone between the two clips was drastic. "Thirteen... fifteen, eighteen... one... twelve..."

     Tara sat up in her chair. "Is that Valentine talking?"

     The voice reverberating from the speakers was dense and hoarse, scarcely recognizable. It sounded like it could be a woman's, but with how soft yet deep it was, it was hard to know for certain. It could belong to Cara Valentine, but it could easily belong to someone else.

     However, without hesitation, Spencer answered: "Yes." He'd recognize her voice anywhere. As he spoke, though, his mind was floating elsewhere. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to make sense of the numbers they were hearing. Why was she muttering numbers? Perhaps they were a code?

     Finally, he grabbed his chair and sank back down into it.

     "Two... one... nineteen..." A time stamp appeared in the bottom right corner of the monitor screen— October 19th, 2015. Nearly an entire year had passed between the two videos. "Five... thirteen... five... fourteen... t-twenty..."

     The screen gradually faded to black and the missing woman appeared in what could be the same room as before. She was on a concrete floor, lying on her right side with her right arm extended out, the side of her face resting against it. This time she only wore a white silk slip-dress, but it was littered with streaks of crimson blood. With half-closed eyes, she was mumbling to herself.

     The only source of light came from a singular swaying lightbulb. Shadows danced across Cara's body, radiating enough light to where fresh scars were visible through the thin fabric of the dress. There was quite a handful. More than there should ever be.

     "Two... one... t-twelve..." Cara murmured, weakly. There was a slight slur to her words. It could be from fatigue, but much of the team was silently wondering if she'd been drugged. "Thirteen... fifteen... e-eighteen... one... twelve... two... one... nineteen..."

     JJ tilted her head to the side. "I..." she paused, hesitant to share her thoughts. "I think she might be drugged."

     "Five... thirteen... five... fourteen... t-twenty..."

     "Potentially," Hotch said, eyes not swaying from the scene. Something about this and the following clips didn't sit right with him. "I believe she may be fatigued."

     Spencer held his breath.

     A set of boot-clad feet walked into the frame. Slowly, the person lowered themselves to the ground next to the woman. Reaching out, they brushed their fingers across her forehead as she continued to mutter random numbers to herself.

     "Which of the Founding Fathers is that? It's not Hennessy Lu, we've seen his face by now." Penelope noted, wanting to know who it was that was stroking her best friend's face as if they had any right to touch her.

     "That's Matthew Johnston," Rossi answered, glancing at the analyst. "Out of the Founding Fathers, besides Ross Valentine, he's the tallest and the only one with just the R.S. tattoo. He doesn't have any other distinguishing marks."

     Penelope nodded, a scowl settling on her lips.

     "I think buying you this dress is one of the best decisions I've made this week," Johnston hummed, not acknowledging how Cara wasn't there mentally. She wasn't focused on this encounter in the slightest. "I certainly know I enjoy taking it off."

     Those eight words created a rancid sensation in Spencer's stomach, and he had to look away. No one had any right to remove someone's clothes without their consent, and the Founding Fathers had absolutely no right to touch Cara Valentine period. The fact that it had happened and presumably still was made him want to strangle the four men until they were red in the face and could no longer feel oxygen reaching their lungs.

     Slowly, Johnston dragged the strap of the dress as far as it could go down her left arm. "Hmmm," he hummed, admiring her body. "Your bruises are beginning to fade. We can't have that now, can we?" he asked gently.

     Cara didn't appear to hear him. "Two... one... twelve... thirteen... fifteen... eighteen... one... twelve... two... one... nineteen..."

     This enraged Johnston and he gripped onto her arm, visibly digging his nails into her skin. The act didn't elicit a reaction. It was almost as if she couldn't feel it as she remained unchanged. She was desensitized to it.

     "Five... thirteen... five... fourteen... twenty..."

     Johnston growled. "You're gonna make me have to work for it this time, aren't you?"

     Nobody was quite sure what he meant. Even Hotch wasn't, and this was the third time he'd watched the DVD in full. What he did know, though, was that this particular clip would be the most violent and hardest to witness.

     "Two... one... twelve..." Cara was cut off as her shoulder was shoved and she rolled onto her back. The back of her head knocked against the concrete and she grunted, eyes fluttering shut in pain.

     "You and that stupid counting," Johnston muttered, positioning himself so he was straddling her hips.

     Quickly covering her eyes, Penelope turned around in her seat. "Nope," she squeaked, heart racing. "No, no, nope. Somebody tell me when it's over." She felt sick to her stomach.

     Tara placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, she too looking away from the screen.

     On the monitor, Hotch, Rossi, JJ, and Spencer watched as Cara reopened her eyes to be greeted by the sight of Johnston looming over her. This seemed to wake her up. His sinister smirk made her gulp, but not an inch of fear was present on her face. It was until his hands pulled her dress up past her breastbone that she showed any reaction fueled by emotion.

     Disgust washed over her and she was swift to grab him by the neckline of his shirt, yanking him down toward her. As she sent a punch into his jaw, she pulled her knee up and slammed it against his pelvic bone. Johnston groaned loudly, teeth gritted together as he instinctually hunched over. Taking advantage of this moment of weakness, Cara kicked him off of her.

     She scrambled to her feet and the dress fell back down, concealing her body. Even though it was nearly as dark as midnight, she was still able to see and ran off camera.

     On the floor, Johnston was gradually pushing himself up. "We can do this the hard way or we can do this the easy way," he called, straightening out his shirt. "We both know fighting back only prolongs the inevitable."

     The sound of metal clanging filled the room and Penelope winced, pressing her palms closer to her ears.

     His line of sight settled on something in the distance, presumably her, and he moved out of view.

     Everyone sat in tense silence. For once, nothing could be heard, and that was almost worse than being subject to listening to their loved one being tortured.

     A quick but sharp crunch came from somewhere and JJ furrowed her brows. "Wh—"

     Suddenly, the ex-convict stumbled back into view. She held her arms in front of her, blocking the throws the man was throwing at her. Her blocks were catching him off guard. He wasn't expecting her to have the strength to fight back. Noticing this at the same time Spencer did, she used it to her advantage.

     The next time his fists were thrust in her direction, she grabbed them tightly. Drawing him closer, she kicked him square in the chest, knocking the air out of him. Johnston misstepped, and she threw a blow to his head. Both she and JJ winced as they heard her knuckles crack at the impact.

     "I'm gonna kill you," he growled, blood pouring from his nose.

     Cara ducked as he swung, shuffling her feet away from him. "And Le will kill you," she reminded him, rushing backward as he lunged at her.

      The pair disappeared from sight, but the team could hear someone slam against what could be a wall. Forked breaths could be heard and Spencer bit down on his lip harshly. It sounded like one of them was being choked out. And he was scared to know who.

     "If you wanted my hands around your neck, all you had to do was ask."

     "Go... t-to Hell."

     "We're already there, princess."

     In the frame of the camera, a flash of long blonde hair appeared for only a second. The left side of Cara's body was then thrust into view before it was jerked back. A blow was thrown, and Penelope could hear multiple bones cracking through her sealed ears. An involuntary whimper escaped her lips.

     Behind her, the rest of her friends watched with teary eyes as Cara was flung to the floor. She groaned as she met the ground, and her head slammed against the concrete with a thud that made everyone flinch. Coughing roughly, blood bubbled from her mouth as she turned her head with great difficulty.

     Spencer's lips trembled. His vision was blurring with hot tears and he felt like he couldn't breathe. By the sound of the impact, he knew without a doubt that she had a concussion, and it was possible her skull had cracked open. She could be dying and there was nothing he could do to stop it. This had taken place months ago.

     Grabbing her by the biceps, Johnston brought her back to her feet. It was evident that her consciousness was faltering as she swayed, blood trickling down her chin. There were already bruising handmarks staining the skin on her neck. Blinking slowly, she weakly met his hardened stare. Her legs were shaking and she put her hands on his arms to steady herself.

     A sadistic smile spread from ear to ear and Johnston tugged her to his chest. His gaze flickered down to her lips and back up to her eyes, stopping when there were less than six inches between them. "The broken and battered woman stereotype fits you so well," he mused, running a hand through her blood-soaked hair.

     Hotch wanted to end the man's life right then and there.

     And so did everyone else.

     Cara swallowed harshly, reeling her head back. The distress on her face was clear as day.

     Their noses brushed and Johnston lowered his eyes slightly, tilting his chin up and grazing his lips against hers. Less than a second skipped by when his hand wrapped around her waist. "But I don't think you're quite there yet," he mumbled, sliding a hand up the dress.

     Cara pursed her lips together before she spit a mouthful of blood into his face. "You won't break me," she said, grimacing at whatever his fingers did under the silk fabric. "I fucking promise you that I could hurt myself way more than you ever could me."

     Anger was practically steaming off of him as Johnston glowered at her, wiping the blood off. "You wanna bet?" he sneered, either grabbing onto her thighs or in between her legs, causing her to stand up straighter.

     "I think I'm going to be sick," Penelope said, feeling her throat clenching. Oh, yeah. She was going to be sick. Hopping out of her chair, she hastily made her way around the table and out of the conference room. Likely headed to the bathroom.

     Tara was tempted to follow her. She and Cara had never met nor known each other, but seeing the video made her feel sick nonetheless. Nobody deserved to be subjected to that pain.

     The back of JJ's hand was pressed to her mouth and she had to avert her eyes to the ground. All this time they spent reading poems and sitting in chairs, Cara Valentine was being subjected to unbearable torture. Guilt seeped through JJ's veins and she wanted to cry.

     In the video, Johnston retracted his hand from under the dress and used it to fire a punch. Cara groaned at the immense pain, biting down on her bottom lip and drawing blood to keep from making any further noise. Rage filled his actions and he threw her toward the back of the room.

     Her body rolled over and over before she eventually landed on her chest. It took a second, but she tried to shake it off. Pressing a hand to the ground, her arm was visibly shaking as she tried to sit up. Marching up to her, Johnston kicked her arm. To his surprise, she didn't cry out. Instead, she just gave in and collapsed to the ground.

     For the next minute and twelve seconds, everyone was forced to watch as the blonde was thrown around like a ragdoll. Hits and punches of all magnitudes were struck against her skin. She was bruised and bloodied, but she had yet to start crying or pleading for him to stop. And that was something everyone, including Johnston, had to give her.

     "Gotta give it to ya, sweetheart," Johnston mused, smearing the sweat off his forehead. He was off balance as he swayed side-to-side, wringing out his hands. "Le made quite the resilient bitch outta you."

     Cara was laying on the ground, her eyes swollen and slowly closing. Scratchy rasps of air fell from her lips.

     "Should we go another round?" Johnston chuckled, staring down at her. When she didn't respond, he narrowed his stare. "I said," he grunted, booting her in the stomach, "should we go another round?!"

     Cara wheezed as the wind was knocked out of her again. "You talk too much," she gasped weakly.

     After what felt like forever, the screen was taken over by black-and-white TV static. A collective breath of sorrow and relief passed around the room. That had been the longest clip so far.

     The date March 1st, 2016, appeared in the bottom right corner of the monitor not a second later. Exactly a month and one day had passed since this was filmed and the present day.

     "This..." Spencer felt a surge of hope fuel his soul. The flashes of Cara being beaten were temporarily wiped away. "This was recent."

     Rossi tapped his foot against the carpet anxiously, wanting nothing more for the DVD to conclude so they could start hunting down these sons of bitches.

     "One... eighteen... twenty... eight... t-twenty-one... eighteen..."

     Just like before, the screen gradually faded to black, and Cara appeared in the same room. She hung from the ceiling with familiar chains cuffed around her wrists, keeping her held up. Another set of chains was locked around her ankles and attached to the floor, the tips of her toes barely brushing against them. Her head was bowed.

     "Twelve... five..."

     Her words were scarcely audible and Hotch reached for the remote, turning up the volume. The same happened when he'd first watched on his laptop.

     "Twelve... twenty-one..."

     Tara's forehead creased. "Can anyone hear what she's saying?"

     "It's numbers," Hotch answered.

     "Nine... fourteen..."

     The only source of light came from the same singular swaying lightbulb.

     "Nineteen... twenty-one... eighteen..." A door slammed somewhere in the distance. "Eighteen...five... twenty-five..." The sound of someone approaching neared closer. "Fourteen... one... eighteen... fifteen...fourteen... seven."

     JJ blinked her tears away. "Last time she was fatigued. Do we think she is here?"

     "Fifteen... fourteen..."

     Rossi shrugged.

     "Twenty... eighteen... five... one... nineteen... twenty-one... eighteen... five..."

     "I think it's a code," Spencer mumbled, trying not to focus on the scars and blood covering Cara's body.

     "The numbers are too random. They're not part of a pattern or equation." Hotch disagreed, having thought the same initially.

     "T-Twelve... fifteen... t-twenty-five..." Cara murmured, weakly. There was a slight slur to her words again. "One... twelve... t-twenty... twenty-five..."

     An unfamiliar voice flooded the speakers, singing, "In a cavern, in a canyon, excavating for a mine dwelt a miner, forty-niner, and his daughter, Clementine." For the first time, no one recognized the voice. And that could only mean one thing.

     Spencer's jaw clenched tightly. Another flare of anger ignited in him, and his eyes glossed over. He slammed his fist against the table for a second time, causing everyone to jump. Just like before, he stood, shoving his chair back and angrily running his hands through his hair.

     "Reid..." Hotch said in a warning tone, giving him the 'calm-down' expression that came across as an order.

     "Yes I loved her, how I loved her, though her shoes were number nine. Herring boxes, without topses, sandals were for Clementine."

     "Fifteen... three... twenty... fifteen... two... five... eighteen..."

     JJ tensed. "That... That's Michael Le, isn't it?"

     In unison, Spencer, Hotch, and Rossi nodded.

     "Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling, Clementine! You are lost and gone forever; dreadful sorrow, Clementine."

     Goosebumps intertwined themselves down everyone's spine at his voice's sick and psychotic tone.

     "Nineteen... nine... twenty-four..."

     "Drove the horses to the water every morning just at nine. Hit her foot against a splinter, fell into the foaming brine."

     "Twenty... fifteen... twenty-three... five... eighteen..."

     "Ruby lips above the water, blowing bubbles soft and fine, but alas, I was no swimmer, so I lost my Clementine."

     This was the infamous song that Michael Le had been associating Cara Valentine with for decades. It meant something to him. It meant something to them. The song marked the beginning of Le and Cara's entangled relationship— if one could even call it that.

     "Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling, Clementine! You are lost and gone forever; dreadful sorrow, Clementine."

     The final nine words were drawn out, sung in a sweet tone that held nothing but malicious intent. A gloved hand then swept into view and covered the camera lens. The screen faded to black, and the DVD came to an end.

     It was over.

     A stringent silence settled over the room.

     A lump rose in Spencer's throat and he swallowed harshly. He inhaled sharply, willing himself not to cry. He couldn't shut down yet. He needed to be present so he could dissect the DVD and do his best to find something he could use to find Cara. Now was not the time to leave high and dry.

     Tara was the first to break the tension. "Can we go back to the first recording?" she asked softly, beginning to realize exactly what it was that had bothered her in the first tape.

     Side-eyeing her, Rossi tilted his head. What was she on to?

     Hotch rewind the DVD, pausing when he reached the opening shot of Cara strapped to the wooden chair. Her arms were wrapped in colorful wires, and her forearms were tied down with zip ties around the chair's armrests.

     That was it.

     "Look," Tara said, pointing at the stilled image.

     "At what?" JJ asked, confused about what she was supposed to be looking at.

     Tara huffed quietly. "I..." she shook her head, trying to find the right way to explain herself. "We need clear eyes to see."

     Her statement made Spencer stand up, wanting desperately to see what his fellow doctor was. "What?" With a sense of purpose in each step, he rushed closer to the screen.

     Mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish for a moment, an idea finally struck her. "Garcia, is it possible for you to blow up the video and make ten-by-twelve-inch photographs for each frame?" Tara peered over at the analyst. The woman had just now re-entered the conference room.

     Blinking, Penelope shakily nodded. The cup of tea in her hands wavered. "O-Of course."

     "Lewis, what is it?" Hotch asked, head tilting to the side.

     Tara met his curious gaze. "We need clear eyes to see."

────

     HUNDREDS OF IMAGES OF CARA VALENTINE STARED BACK DAUNTINGLY AT THE TEAM. With the help of Anderson and other agents, and the approval of Cruz to use the F.B.I.'s empty warehouse located on the edge of headquarters' property, every still from the first video had been plastered in order across the walls of the warehouse. The building was massive, with zero rooms, and provided enough space for the team to properly dissect the video. In the center of the building, a long desk with computers had been set up.

     Everyone was scattered about, inspecting the pictures.

     "The video was a minute and four seconds long..." Tara spoke; her voice echoed around the structure. All attention flashed to her. "One-thousand-five-hundred-and-thirty-six frames. They're all here."

     Penelope grimaced, nearly cringing away at the pained image of her best friend in front of her. "It was bad enough that we had to watch the video. Do we really have to look at each frame? For what?" she whined, feeling her stomach churn for the umpteenth time that day.

     After she'd fled the conference room and emptied the contents of her breakfast in the women's restroom, she'd decided that she didn't want to see the rest of the DVD. And luckily, Hotch had approved of that. Everybody was coping with this case differently and had their own boundaries that they refused to cross. Watching her loved ones being tortured and assaulted was too much for the technical analyst.

     "To find something," Spencer answered the blonde from across the space. He was squatted on the ground, picking apart every pixel of the final few photographs.

     Rossi scoffed from where he stood with JJ a few feet away. "I don't exactly see a cable bill with their address on it."

     Breathing softly, Tara gestured from her eyes to the walls. "Clear eyes."

     Penelope frowned. "All I see is Rose in pain."

     "Where is she?" Tara asked, trying to find the best way to explain what she saw without confusing the hell out of everyone.

     At the question, JJ backed away from where she was and walked across the building to Tara's side. "In an empty, dusty room," she said.

     "But where in the room?"

     Finally, it clicked.

     "In the light," Spencer blurted, standing up straight. "Direct sunlight."

     Hotch stood beside the first dozen frames, hands in his pockets. "Horizontal light," he added, nodding at the way the sunlight was reflected in the white-and-blue painted room. "That's either dawn or dusk."

     "It's dawn," Spencer said, tapping that one-two-one pattern against the outside of his thigh.

     Spinning around, Rossi's brows scrunched together. "How do you know that?"

     "There's no way the Founding Fathers could have taken her too far within three days. Not with Le with them. He'd want to spend time with her, but also be far away to know he wouldn't be interrupted by law enforcement," Spencer answered, and his teammates all silently noticed how he had unknowingly reverted back to being unable to say her name. The videos had more of an impact on him than he was showing.

     JJ nodded slowly. "So, they were likely still in Virginia."

     "Yes. With the horizontal angle and yellow hue in the light," he gestured to the beams of light, "I'd say it was dawn when this was filmed. The window is facing East."

     "And look at the window." Tara pointed at the reflection of the window in the photos.

     "The light from the windows is refracted, which means leaded glass," Hotch noted, recognizing the texture of them.

     JJ glanced over her shoulder at him. "A factory?"

     Rossi hummed. "Maybe a factory. It could also be a loft or studio apartment."

     "No, that's unlikely. There are sixteen panes of leaded glass. Those are Maccadan windows." Hotch stated, and a small smile almost emerged as a memory came to mind. "They were made in the twenties and thirties. They're explicitly forbidden for residential use. The glass contains arsenic."

     Eyebrows flicking upward, Rossi painted a mock-impressed expression on his face. "Wow."

     The tone the man used caused Hotch to look over at him, a semi-joking glare on his face. "Haley and I renovated our first home. I learned more than I wanted to know," he explained, shrugging. Rossi simply winked at him.

     Across from them, the BAU's resident genius was beginning to piece together what it was Tara was seeing. "Wait... Her eyes..." he muttered, but with the lack of furniture and wide, open space, his words reverberated for all to hear.

     "What about them?" Penelope questioned, mindlessly tracing an outline of Cara's face. God, she just wanted her back already. "They look beautiful as always."

     JJ gasped. "She's looking down, scanning from left to right. East to west."

     Suddenly, all attention was directed at the photographs on the walls. Everyone moved about, trying to find other instances in the video where Cara's eyes repeated the motion.

     "She's doing it right here, too, in these frames," Rossi announced, standing in the center of the line of photographs.

     Spencer felt another spark of hope ignite his soul. "And that's a ripple in the water," he said, pointing at the glass of water on the wooden table next to where Cara was sitting. The light reflecting off the water shifted in a few of the frames. "The room's trembling."

     This was the most tangible clue they'd ever had.

     A thought came to mind and JJ looked at him. "Assuming she was still in Virginia, that means a train went by," she stated, also feeling that same sense of hope.

     They were finally getting somewhere.

     A breath of relief fell from Tara's mouth. Finally. "Two trains," she added, wordlessly acknowledging the fact that Cara had only moved her eyes left to right twice.

     Spencer's eyes widened. "Two trains, one minute and four seconds apart in the same direction..." he trailed off, wracking his brain of all the train stations in Virginia where that pattern could occur. "I need a map."

────

     A MASSIVE MAP OF VIRGINIA WAS PRESSED AGAINST THE PLASTIC FOLD-UP TABLE. Spencer and Tara were leaning over it, tracing the various train lines throughout the state with green markers. On the other side of the table stood Hotch, Rossi, JJ, and Penelope. They were watching with brooding anticipation.

     "We're looking for all the east-west double lines," Spencer clarified, gaze downcast, "any station where two trains can pass above or underneath within a minute and four seconds of each other. And then we narrow it down to those under nineteen-thirties buildings that are clear of any skyscrapers blocking light."

     A frown made its way onto Penelope's face and she was fiddling with the hot pink case on her cellphone. "H-Hey, guys," she spoke timidly, wincing at the desperation written on Spencer's face when he looked at her. "I-I don't want to put a damper on this, but... hundreds of buildings could match that description."

     Rossi nodded in agreement. "Garcia's right."

     "A-And that clip was from almost two years ago," she added, feeling a lump rise in her throat when she saw Spencer's expression harden. His eyes snapped back to the map. "From the other videos, we know she's being held somewhere else."

     JJ glanced at her. "That's true, but that doesn't mean there couldn't be any clues or evidence left behind in a place they used to be."

     "It's worth tracking down," Hotch stated.

     "There are one-hundred-and-eighty-one buildings in Virginia that match our description." Spencer declared matter-of-factly, clicking his marker shut.

     "What's the closest one?" Rossi asked, more than ready to get to searching. He was tired of sitting around, waiting for a miracle. With the DVD they'd been sent, a new realm of possibilities had been introduced and they had more to go on than they did twenty-four hours ago, or in the last nearly two years.

     Spencer flicked his hair out of his face. "It's an hour away."

     "Wheels up in ten," Hotch announced.

     Almost everyone turned on their heel, ready to head out the door.

     "Wait," Spencer called, stopping all of them. "It's too many. We need to narrow it down."

     JJ was the first to make her way back to the table. "How?" With a curious gaze, she watched as he darted over to the closest wall.

     "There's something we're not seeing in the frames."

     Tara immediately mimicked his behavior. This time it was her turn to try and catch onto what her fellow doctor was talking about. "Clear eyes," she muttered under her breath, inspecting the images.

     "Like what?" Penelope called out, reaching up to now fiddle with her necklaces. It was starting to get warm in the warehouse. Likely because she was becoming overwhelmed. She didn't appreciate being surrounded by pictures of Cara in anguish. She wanted to leave.

     The team observed as Spencer hastily moved about, walking in circles, eyes frantically scanning about. He was mumbling to himself, hands slightly shaking.

     In a way, it was heartbreaking to witness, but it was simultaneously motivating. This was the most alive he'd felt in a long time. Everyone could see it. It felt like he was finally getting somewhere with Cara's case. That they were finally getting somewhere with Cara's case. They were getting closer; he just knew it.

     Suddenly, Spencer did a double take and back peddled his feet. He came to a standstill, attention fixated on something in a random frame. His eyes narrowed.

     Wait...

     "Dust," he blurted randomly, backing away from the walls.

     Hotch's eyebrows pinched together. "Dust?"

     He didn't answer him. "Garcia, I need you to pull up the video and blow up the bottom left-hand corner."

     Penelope blinked, bringing herself back to the present conversation at hand. She'd slowly been tuning out. "Uh, okay," she stuttered; her heart tightened as she briefly glanced at the photographs on the wall again.

     "We're looking for dust?" Rossi retorted.

     Spencer nodded, not bothering to meet his puzzled stare. "Yes," he responded, glancing at Penelope. "How close can you get?" He was referencing the clip.

     Wordlessly, the technical analyst walked over to one of the computers, retrieving the footage. She maximized it and zoomed in on the bottom left-hand corner. The image was a blurred mess of blue pixels before it shifted back into focus. The dust was no longer a light grey. Instead, it was a cluster of colorful specs of dry powder.

     "That's a lot of colors," she gasped, shocked by the vast number of colorful specs of dust that littered the footage.

     "What about the colors?" Hotch peered over Penelope's shoulder.

     It appeared as if he hadn't heard him as the doctor continued to talk to himself. "Yeah, that's blue, green," he traced his index finger over the colored specs on the computer screen. Where could they be from? The bits of dust didn't come from anywhere. Not with that color pigmentation.

     Perhaps they were staring at a... Rossi cleared his throat. "Maybe it's some kind of factory."

     JJ squinted her eyes as she tried to decipher what it was they were looking at. She couldn't tell. "Photo lab?" she proposed, tilting her head to the right.

     "A dry cleaners?" Tara guessed, shoulders raising as she spoke.

     "It's fibers." Spencer realized, turning his head in the women's direction. "Fibers. We're looking for a clothing factory."

     "How many clothing factories are there that match our description?" Hotch asked, raising his chin.

     Rushing over to the map, the genius quickly answered, "Uh... eleven. The closest one is half an hour away."

     The Unit Chief nodded, uncrossing his arms. "We'll split up. Rossi, JJ, you'll visit four of the sites. Reid, you, and Lewis will cover four as well. I'll check out the final three. Call if you find the right one. Wheels up."

────

     FOOTSTEPS FILLED WITH BUDDING DISAPPOINTMENT MARCHED DOWN THE STEPS OF ROBBIN'S RED ABANDONED CLOTHING FACTORY. The last three hours had been filled with nothing but defeat. The duo had found absolutely zero sign of Cara Valentine's presence in any of the abandoned clothing factories they'd visited. Not to mention the room in the video had yet to make its debut.

     "Three down, one to go." Tara sighed, crossing off the third location with a red Sharpie. The ink bled through the map and her nose scrunched up when she noticed that it transferred onto the pad of the fingers touching the map.

     Spencer peeked over her shoulder, tracing the distance between their location and the final factory. "The next one is seventeen minutes away," he told her, tapping his habitual one-two-one pattern against the outside of his thigh. That was the second time today.

     A coy grin spread across the woman's lips. "I can make it ten."

     The sound of a phone ringing blared through the air. Spencer dug into his back pocket, retrieving his phone. He quickly checked the caller's I.D. "JJ?" he breathed, running a hand through his hair. "Did you and Rossi find it?"

     Tara stuffed the map into her coat pocket, noticing how his posture was stiff.

     "Yes," JJ breathed, and a clear undertone of distress was laced within that one word. Her voice was strained and it sounded like she was on the verge of crying. "This is definitely the one."

     "What did they leave behind?" Spencer asked, but it came across as more of a demand. He needed to know what they found.

     JJ hesitated on the other end, unsure if she should say anything on the phone. "You need to see it for yourself."

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     IN THE LEFT CORNER OF THE RECTANGULAR ROOM SAT A PILE OF FAMILIAR CLOTHING. A pair of black jeans, a black bra and matching underwear, a dark grey tank top, white socks, and black high-heeled boots sat in a messy cluster. They could be seen the moment someone walked into the space. Thick blankets of dust, cobwebs, and dried blood coated the pieces, indicating that they had been left untouched for a prolonged period of time.

     Aside from the outfit, the BAU had last seen Cara Valentine in being present at the site, the rest of the room they'd seen on camera was almost the same. Upon walking in, to the left, a fifteen-foot wall was coated in blue, while the upper half was basked in pure white. A wooden chair was knocked over a few feet from it with what used to be a small wooden, rectangular table with a glass of water to the right of it. Now, however, the glass of water was shattered on the floor and the table had been smashed to smithereens.

     Meanwhile, on the right side of the room, there was a camera tripod positioned perfectly in the center. Whatever camera had once been there was gone. On the ground beside it were a disorganized pile of colorful wires and a small wave energy device. It was likely the one that had been used on the missing ex-trafficker.

     A large window was positioned on the wall directly adjacent to the entrance, streaks of bright daylighting streaming through. It wouldn't be long before the sun began to set.

     "Those are her clothes from May second," Spencer muttered as he entered the room. With an aching heart, he swept his gaze to the knocked-over chair. Clear as day, he could picture Cara sitting there with exhaustion written across her face. He could almost hear her panting, her chest rising up and down vigorously as she fought to catch her breath.

     "Considering the amount of dust and cobwebs on them, they've been sitting in this spot for over a year," JJ said, refraining from getting any closer. It made her feel queasy— just the sight of them.

     Tara cleared her throat. "And those are the wires..." she pointed out, motioning to the wires on the floor as she entered behind Rossi.

     Peering over his shoulder, Spencer's eyes landed on the wires and device. Instinctually, he tensed and the sound of Cara grunting in pain echoed in his ears.

     "There was a struggle," Hotch noted.

     "She fought back," Rossi added, gesturing to the clear signs surrounding them.

     "So, when they moved," Tara began, walking about the room, "she still had enough physical strength to fight back against five grown men."

     JJ eyed the broken glass shards on the floor, flashes of the video playing in her mind. "Or however many were here in the room with her." To her right, the small wooden table that the water had been placed on was broken into splintered pieces.

     "That too." Tara nodded, glancing out the Maccadan windows and to the train tracks next to the building.

     "How long are we thinking they kept her here?" Rossi asked, frowning at the head-sized bloodstain on the brick wall. The stain was a few inches above where the paint went from blue to a stark white. In his peripheral vision, he saw that Spencer finally noticed it.

     Hotch was scanning the camera tripod for fingerprints with a UV blacklight. "Not long considering not even a full month had passed between the first two clips. This was just a temporary hideout before they figured out how to get to their desired destination." There weren't any fingerprints that he could find. At least on the tripod. They needed to call in the F.B.I. techs to process the scene.

     "Nobody touches anything," he announced, standing up straighter. Everybody looked his way. "We need to get the F.B.I.'s CSI team in here and call the local police. This is a crime scene. We need to get everything processed and swept for prints."

     "On it." JJ gave him a curt nod, excusing herself from the room to make the call.

     Hotch turned to the brown-haired doctor. "Reid, what're you thinking?" The doctor had been quiet for longer than he liked.

     A thick lump resided at the back of his throat, and he was doing his best to ignore it. "She was here," Spencer choked out, inching away from the bundle of clothes on the floor. "She was only an hour away from us for who knows how long, and we lost her."

     Rossi grimaced at the self-blame radiating off of him. "Kid..."

     "I lost her," he corrected himself, blinking several times.

     No one could convince him otherwise. Since the day Cara Valentine had gone missing, he blamed every second she was gone on himself. He was a certifiable genius. He was the person she trusted the most to keep her safe and the one she confided in, and he failed her. And that DVD reminded him of that fact again and again.

     "We're going to get her back," Hotch vowed, pointedly staring at the youngest member of his team. However, his statement did nothing to ease anyone in the room. Rather, it was infuriating. Particularly infuriating for Spencer.

     How the hell were they going to get her back?

     That was the singular question racing through Spencer Reid's mind as his hands curled. He lost her. Without warning, he'd hurled his arm back and struck his fist against the wall on his right. A layer of dust flew off the surface at the movement.

     Tara involuntarily flinched at the sudden act of aggression.

     Marching out of the room, he passed by a concerned JJ in the doorway. He carelessly bumped his shoulder into hers, not bothering to apologize.

     JJ stumbled, eyes wide. "Spence!" she exclaimed, taken aback. She quickly spun on her heel to follow him, but a hand curled around her arm.

     "Let him go," Hotch advised, tugging her back gently. By going after the brown-haired man, all it would do is push him further away, and right now, they needed him. "He needs to cool off."

     Tears came to her eyes, and JJ's chest constricted. Nodding stiffly, she held her breath. She couldn't force herself to meet Hotch's concerned gaze.

     "He's not the only one," Rossi muttered, staring distastefully at the clothes behind them.

     Cara Valentine had been there, and the goddamn Red Scorpions were taunting them with that fact.

────

﹙ APRIL 30TH, 2016 ﹚

     WITH AN ARM-FULL OF BOOKS AND BINDERS AND HER PURSE ON THE EDGE OF SLIPPING OFF HER SHOULDER, ALEX BLAKE RUSHED DOWN THE HALLWAY. A meeting with a student of hers had run over time, and now she was late for the department budget meeting. It had been a hectic day, to say the least, and this was the third meeting she was late for. Tardiness was never an issue for her, but today had seemed to be the exception.

     Why? She didn't know.

     As she squeezed her way past lingering college kids, the blaring ringtone of her phone went off. Part of her was inclined to answer it, but she needed to get to the meeting. The dean of the department was making an appearance, and not showing altogether was not an option. Eventually, her phone went silent.

     Turning around, she pressed her back against a double set of doors and opened them. Yellow and orange streaks of light flooded her vision, and she squinted, exiting the building. She placed one foot in front of the other, carefully walking down the steps, ensuring she wouldn't trip and drop everything.

     Suddenly, her phone rang again.

     Blake sighed, coming to a standstill in the middle of the sidewalk. She shifted her things so she could reach for the phone in her back pocket. Withdrawing it, she didn't bother to check the caller's I.D. before swiping right.

     "Dr. Blake," she answered, wedging her phone between her ear and shoulder as she resumed walking.

     "Alex..." The voice of Penelope Garcia echoed through the other line. Not an ounce of her bubbly and light tone was laced within Alex's name.

     Eyebrows furrowing, Blake's pace began to slow down. A sinking sense of dread filled her stomach. It'd been a little over two years since she'd left the BAU, and the last time she'd talked to any of the team was at Christmas.

     This wasn't just a random call... Something had happened... Cara.

     "What happened?" The question left her lips without hesitation, and she came to a stop. Her eyes fluttered shut as she prepared herself for the worst. The department meeting had slipped from her mind.

     Garcia inhaled sharply. "T-There... We g-got..." her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. "The Scorpions... I-I can't say much over the phone, but everyone's here at the BAU. I just... You told us that if we got a real lead to call you."

     Blake swallowed. "I'll be there by the morning."

𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆   ──   ❪ CRIMINAL MINDS ❫
act two:      𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚂𝚂,      ²
╱ ✹      ▬▬     ❛ © CARDIIAC     2023. ❜
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𓄹 ━━━ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓! ࿐ ໋₊ ˖

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

     our poor girl cara has been through so much and will only go through so much more. then there's sweet spencer... the amount of self-blame he's feeling is heartbreaking. now, the team is finally starting to get somewhere!

     also... ALEX MOTHERFUCKING MILF BLAKE IS BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER!! i love blake so much, and she plays such an integral role in cara's story with her brother and then with finding her... i had to bring her back.

     some other familiar faces will be returning in the next chapter as well... the next one will take a bit longer to publish since it is very research-based and trying to stick to the real-life details of the red scorpions is hard when there is so much yet so little information at the same time.

     anyway! it took me a lil bit longer than i anticipated to update. that is primarily due to work and how insanely tired i have been lately. it's been a long few weeks and i've been so tired that trying to finish writing these chapters takes a lot out of me. (especially considering how emotionally heavy and draining they are to write. this is over 12k words... i'm so glad it's over.)

     this chapter breaks me more than any other chapter so far. the rest of the book is really intense and dark in parts and more trigger warnings will be posted before chapters. i just want to let everyone know beforehand in case there are particular scenes or subjects that are sensitive for some. do not feel obligated to read all of the scenes if it can be detrimental. take care of yourself first. <3

     just so everyone knows, this is officially the turning point in VOLUME TWO and things are speeding up from here. the search for cara will be kicking into full gear. a lot of information will be thrown at you, but it'll clear things up and explain many past events.

     LASTLY: shoutout to the factory side story in this chapter! i got it from season three episode one of the tv show quantico where the face claim of cara is from. it's such a great episode. if you know, you know. credit for it goes to quantico.

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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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